


Sex In The Seireitei

by FungusWitch



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 68,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7595224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FungusWitch/pseuds/FungusWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of smutty Bleach one-shots where the reader can get up close and personal with the fine men and women of Bleach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Submissive!Hirako Shinji/Reader

Shinji Hirako is a versatile man. If his zanpakuto is anything to go by, he’s adept at turning things on their head once in a while, whether that be his foes on the battlefield, or the power-play in the bedroom. Which is how he finds himself pinned down to his own bed by a nubile young woman wearing naught but a salacious grin. To be fair, there are much worse places to be.

‘What’s gotten into ya, doll?’ he asks, twisting his wrists where you hold them down. The force you exert isn’t enough to actually restrain him. He could break free of your hold in an eye-blink, but the curve to your lips speaks of amusement, self-assurance, and planning. A triple-threat that makes his balls tighten in anticipation. You are always so very, very alluring when you get it into your head to dominate him.

‘You, if you behave,’ you purr. That velvety tone of voice is one you only ever use when he’s beneath you like this. 'Keep your hands where they are.’ Immediately, his arms become limp, defenseless. You like him like this: flat on his back, rumpled, submissive, and he knows it. There is something inherently decadent about having a taicho of the Gotei 13 stretched out under you, awaiting your pleasure. Or not. However you decide. ‘Are you going to behave, Hirako-taicho?’

The contrast of his official title juxtaposed with the arrogant tilt of your head and the restraining hand you plant on his chest… He scores his lower bottom lip with his teeth, sucks in a breath. As much as he likes the idea of flipping you onto your back and driving into you until you shriek his name, he knows greater heights await if he lets you have your way with him. Eyes half-lidded, he offers you his best shit-eating grin. 'Yer the boss, darlin’.’

‘Damn right I am,’ you say, sitting up where you straddle his hips. You plant your hands on your waist, wondering where to begin. He’s already naked; his long, rangy body is a veritable feast of options. You stroke an errant hand across his stomach, watching the short golden hairs stir on his little happy-trail. There’s a corresponding twitch against your thigh.

The tip of his tongue appears between his teeth, touching his lip. You take it as invitation, leaning forward on your palms. His mouth is ready, waiting. You take more than you give, nudging his lips open with yours, slipping your tongue into the open offering. You touch his piercing with the tip of your tongue, flickering over the ring of metal, then stroking the roof of his mouth. He makes a faint noise in the back of his throat. You frond your fingers into his thick blond hair, which is every bit as silky as it looks, and tug, just a little. The noise he makes becomes a grunt.

You kiss him long and slow, muffling the eager sounds he begins to make as your tongue curls around his, slides over the backs of his teeth. You can almost feel his fingers twitching where they lie useless on the pillow above his head. He wants to dig his fingers into your hair and tilt you to his preferred angles. Too bad. You pull away, lips moistened by saliva, leaving him panting.

You’ve tied your hair out of the way but now you reach behind you and loosen it. When you bend down to kiss his neck, it slithers forward over your shoulders to feather against his skin. He inhales slowly. You lick at the sharp line of his jaw, nosing your way to the soft lobe of his ear. You scrape it with the edge of your teeth, then trace the skin with your tongue. He curses quietly under his breath. This always undoes him a little bit, and you know it. You give his earlobe one lingering suck, then bite down ever-so-gently on the shell of his ear.

‘Baby…’ he mutters. You ignore it. You leave his ear, kissing your way down the side of his neck to where it joins his shoulder. You suck the skin there, enjoying how his head rolls to one side to give you more access, but you have more to explore. His skin marks up nicely under your mouth as you move down his chest. He’s not that pale, but the red marks speckle him like breadcrumbs in a fairytale. Showing where you’ve been and where you might go back. He jerks when your tongue slides across a flat nipple. He’s been watching you from under his displaced bangs, but it still startles him.

And you love that. You wrap your lips around it and suck. He gives a strangled gasp and his hands almost reach for you. You lift your lashes slow, giving him a look. Don’t even think about it. He chuckles, head falling back. 'Yer evil, doll.’ You do it again and his mouth falls open, lip revealing his upper teeth. His nose crinkles. It’s a strange visceral tugging that makes him thrum low down deep. He catches his breath only when you release.

He’s ticklish to an extent. You trail your fingers down his sides. His abdomen twitches with suppressed laughter. Only the lightest touches set him off. You dip your fingers into the vee of his hips, skirting them down to where he would enjoy your touch most. Air hisses between his teeth. You put your hands harmlessly on his thighs. He huffs. 'It’s not so big ya need to be scared of it, darlin’.’

You smirk. 'Quiet, brat.’ He’s such a little shit. Even if he’s willingly submissive, he tries to goad you into doing what he wants. Sometimes you do, just so he can think it might work next time. 'You’ll get it when I’m good and ready.’ His eyes glint at you from under his bangs. He stirs against your thigh again. He’s enjoying every minute of this. Still, he pouts.

You slide off his hips to kneel between his legs. He’s already fully hard, begging for some kind of attention. He puts his hands behind his head, a promise not to move or take over. Good. Where were you? The trail of lovebites down his body is clue enough. You pick up where you left off, sucking at his skin. It tastes of sweat. Salty, not unpleasant. He inhales when your tongue slides down the jut of his hip. He wriggles. 'Babe…’

You run both hands up his inner thighs. The muscles twitch and his hips lift in a needy gesture. ’Babe.’ You cock your head to the side, looking up at him. Oh, yes. You like the implied italics in his voice. He sees. His grin is cheeky, for a moment, before he drops his golden head back. ’Please.’ You like that even better. You reward him, stroking a single fingertip up the cord of muscle on the underside of his dick. Then you take it away. He whines.

You laugh. 'You’re such a slut, Shinji.’ You follow your finger with your tongue. He whimpers, knowing it’ll encourage you to do more. You wrap your lips around his head, trace his slit with your tongue. He squirms, something tight winding in his gut. You release him after a single hard suck that makes his hips jerk, then blow cool air against him. His toes curl. It feels arctic-cold, twice as sensitive on damp flesh.

And because you think you’ve established the dynamic well enough, you’re ready to enjoy yourself. You move before he’s even realised what you’re doing. You kneel either side of his slim hips, grasp him, and lower yourself. There’s nothing quite like it - the slow parting, the push of him into your body in a single, slow, controlled impalement. You stare straight into lazy brown eyes as you let your weight sink you down on him. Something flickers in his gaze. The skin tightens around his eyes. Your hips lie flush with his.

There’s a brief, breathless pause as you both adjust. Stretched, filled with hard heat for you. Swallowed whole by slick, warm tightness for him. You plant both palms on his chest, pushing him into the mattress with your weight, and lift yourself. Drop. Lift. Drop. 'Is this what you wanted, Shinji?’ you ask, your voice filled with a tense note, like a vibrating guitar string.

’Yes, doll,’ he groans. His fingers are knotted together in his hair, because he wants nothing more than to grab your hips and make you move faster. The slow slip-and-slide up and down his dick is doing wonders, though. Your breasts bounce like twin temptations. He wants to have one of them at his mouth. 'Ride me just like that.’

You slam back down on him with enough force to wind him. He grunts, hips snapping up to meet yours. You lean forward, bending so his dick nudges against your g-spot, grinding slowly. Your grin is nothing short of wicked as you bend your head down, spilling hair all around him like a curtain. Your lips brush against his. He tilts his chin up, ready to tangle his tongue with yours, but you’re already gone.

'Jeez, you’re so needy,’ you sigh, already sat back up. You roll your hips at your favourite pace, using him as nothing more than a hard shaft to get yourself off. Your hands slide down your body. Your gaze burns into his as you cup your breasts, playing with yourself. His eyes darken slowly. This is one of his greatest weaknesses. Nothing gets him off like watching you pleasure yourself. Everywhere you touch, he imagines following with his mouth. Your nipples, your stomach, the delicate fingers you slip between your folds. You moan, stroking yourself nice and slow.

’____-chan…’ he says, a hint of warning. You let your head fall back, teeth digging grooves into your full lower lip. You rotate your hips in a move that has him seeing stars. His heels dig into the mattress, needing some kind of traction. You don’t care. Your fingers are working magic on your clit, pinching your nipple. Your knees feel loose and weak. Your breath comes in soft, rapid moans. Your climax starts as a flush of heat that spreads slowly. Your body flushes with goosebumps and even the soles of your feet tingle. Inside, you’re a sucking, pulsating torture chamber and Shinji is trapped. 'Ah, fuck, darlin’…’ he whines, reaching out to grab for you.

Orgasm or not, you catch his hands and pin them back down. 'I didn’t say you could move,’ you growl, slamming down on him. He stutters, grunts. From there, you’ve no room for teasing. You just want to fuck. You ride him hard, scratching your nails lightly down his abdomen, reaching behind you to give his ass a little slap. His chuckle is strained, his expression tense as your wild, rampant body drives him higher. He can feel the heat boiling, his vision getting a little fuzzy around the edges as more blood rushes to his erection. You stop.

’____-chan, please,’ he begs. He’s panting, hands fisted in the sheets, glazed with sweat. You brand the image into your mind a few seconds longer. A slow roll of your hips has him purring, until you dive right back into the same brutal pace from before. He arches from the bed, hands and feet digging into the mattress. Another climax blindsides you. Your inner muscles flutter, squeezing down on him in long pulls. He makes a choked noise, mouth opening in a silent cry as you drag the climax right out of him.

It takes you a little while to catch your breath. Your body gives a few last, weak pulses around his softening dick. His nose scrunches as you slide off him, oversensitive. You flop down next to him, give his hip a condescending pat. 'Thanks, babe.’

'Yer gonna kill me, doll.’

'You love it.’


	2. Kensei Muguruma/Reader

It was her fault, for tempting him with that flash of black lace under her skirt. Kensei Muguruma wasn’t the type to let such teasing go unpunished. His paperwork was done and he had all damn night to show his little tease what she reaped with her actions. He had her out of her clothes in the span of a few heated kisses, tossing them far and wide over the living room. He eyed the coffee table, and grinned like a demon.

‘Lie on the table, _____.’

‘W-what?’

‘Just do it.’

She sat gingerly on the table. He was in front of her in a heartbeat, kissing her throat. She let her head fall back, trusting his hands to keep her upright. But he was lowering her to lie down. Cool, smooth wood touched her back.

‘Relax.’ He picked up her feet, and braced them on the edge of the table, spreading her legs wide open. ‘And don’t hold back, _____.’

He lowered his head between her thighs. She stared. Well, right until he started kissing her again, lower this time. His hair tickled her stomach. A soft moan left her. His hands roamed her thighs while he kissed, calloused fingertips sliding over her hips and stomach and making her want to writhe. 

But she couldn’t. He pushed her heels further apart, so her sex opened like petals. She heard a throaty moan, and then the tip of his tongue tickling her right atop her clitoris. She stared at the ceiling, panting, wide-eyed. Her hands were draped above her head on the table, limp. She twitched every time he flicked over the top of that little bundle of nerves. She could feel heat gathering inside her. 

He circled her softly. Her hips followed the motion in desperate little wriggles. He grasped both her ankles, pinning her feet to the tabletop. She moaned softly, biting down on her bottom lip. He pulled away to lick slowly at her inner thighs, the joins of her hips, the outer lips of her sex. As delicious as it was, it couldn’t rival the throb of pleasure as he kissed her clitoris again. 

The flat of his tongue dragged over her. Slow. Deliberate. Like licking an ice cream. 

Soft, muffled mewls, squirming on the table. She sighed as he slid both his hands up and down her inner thighs, making the muscles twitch, keeping her spread for him at the same time. The nerves tingled at the sensual caress, at the same time as a heated, overstimulated burning built at her core. 

‘Oh, god, Kensei…’ she said, grasping her hands in her own hair. 

He soothed her with a soft kiss. Then, quick, light licks that made her pant. She sobbed with pleasure, fingers scrabbling at the polished wood of the table. 

She lost track of time. He didn’t seem to tire, changing what he was doing every short while. As soon as something had her straining against his grasp, he switched. She knew that orgasm was coming, and when it did she was going to be screaming, but he forced her to wait. 

His tongue had explored every soft, pink fold of her, slipping inside her once or twice to taste the hot, slick core. Every inhale was a gasp, every exhale was a moan, or his name. 

He traced her the stiffened tip of his tongue, making her jerk in his hold. Over and over. 

'Kensei, please,’ she begged, tears standing out in her eyes. She was struggling to breathe, her hands fisted in her hair. The prickling in her scalp was a delicious counterpoint to the unbearable pleasure.

Her nerves were on fire, just waiting that extra push to make her explode. He groaned, sounding utterly turned on, and sucked her into his mouth, slithering his tongue all over her nub. He had to hold her hips down as she writhed, mindless to anything but the agony of pleasure between her legs. He suckled hard, growling into her, shaking his head from side to side.

She arched off the table, a hoarse scream ripping out of her throat.

Pleasure flooded her, endorphins pounding through her bloodstream. He was still sucking steadily, with her thighs struggling against his strong, strong hands, her inner muscles clamping down on emptiness and pulsing hard. She pounded her fists on the table, hips jerking against his mouth. She moaned, loud and long.

Finally, he released her. She shuddered, her body wracked with a long shiver. He was panting hard, almost as bad as her. She closed her eyes, sinking slowly back against the table. Her sex was still spasming with aftershocks. She trembled weakly with each one. He rubbed gently at her thighs, which ached from being held in place for so long. 

He must have been down there for nearly a half an hour. She was flushed from head to toe, hair tangled, sweat glistening on her breasts and stomach. He wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist.

'Hey,’ he said hoarsely, leaning over her. He kissed her stomach. 'You okay?’

Her only reply was a whimper.

'That a good sound or a bad one, ______?’

’…good,’ she said, voice faint and rough. 

‘Good, because I’m just getting started.’


	3. Urahara Kisuke/Reader

For all his ‘humble shopkeeper’ charm, Kisuke Urahara could be an infuriating asshole when he wanted. Oh, he never did anything overt that you could actually get mad at him for. It was always the smallest things that finally added up to your boiling point. It didn’t help that the man was a genius.

Kisuke was incredibly skilled at planning. He could pull the tiniest strings to get you into any scenario he wanted, regardless of what choices you thought you’d made. And most irritating of all, he only ever abused that power when it came to sex.

Somehow, going about your normal day around the shop, you’d find yourself losing clothes to small accidents and spillages, or getting dusty in the backroom. When you’d step in the shower, the hot water wouldn’t run, so you’d have to stomp down to the boiler in your towel, dripping. And then you’d find yourself cornered by a behatted and bedevilled ‘shopkeeper’ in the dark little closet in the back, your hand over your mouth so Tessai didn’t hear your desperate moans.

In short, Kisuke was a tricky little shit.

Which was how, one fine afternoon, you found yourself storming into your bedroom. Tired, aching from moving boxes he had told you to move, and bedraggled. Your hair was a snarled mess around your hairtie, you were covered in sweat, and you felt like death in the muggy afternoon heat. As soon as you entered the room, you snarled with irritation.

The shutters were still closed. Would it kill that man to shift for himself once in a while? The room was dark, stifling. Everything that touched you pissed you off. Grunting with frustration, you ripped your shirt up over your head and tossed it on the floor. Your bra followed, then trousers, underwear, even socks. The very air was like a thick, heavy blanket.

Cool air licked against the damp skin of your back. Your spine stiffened. Where was that breeze coming from?

Teeth grinding together, you turned your head.

Kisuke leaned against the wall behind you. Silent. Wafting cool air at you with that little fan. You glared. He gave you a smile so innocent it crinkled up his eyes. You should’ve kicked him for it.

‘Maa~ you look a little stressed, ____-chan.’

‘Oh?’ Your voice was raggedly sarcastic, half a heartbeat from a snarl. 'Whatever gave you that impression?’

'So angry, ____-chan.’ He came closer, fluttering that damn fan. Flyaway hairs drifted back from your face. 'Relax. Stress isn’t good for you.’ The fingers of his free hand trickled down your back.

’…’ He was lucky. So incredibly lucky you weren’t strong enough to kill him. Because right then the thought was almost as tempting as an ice bath right about now. The fucker had done it again. 'Kisuke…’

He tsked in the back of his throat, tossing aside the fan. He closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, the soft cloth of his haori fluttering against your skin. You swallowed hard, the angry throb of your pulse turning into a flustered skitter. The very tips of his forefingers trailed down your arms. 'So tense…why not let me help with that?’

’You are the reason I’m tense,’ you muttered, trying to hang onto your bad mood, for the sake of your dignity, if nothing else. You shuddered when his lips touched your neck.

'Then let me make it up to you~’ His voice was a throaty little purr. You closed your eyes. 'Ah, ah, ah, don’t look away from me.’ You looked up at him. 'That’s it, princess.’

He just had to call you 'princess’. Everywhere his hands touched tingles followed. Goosebumps prickled all over your front as Kisuke urged you down onto the soft, pillowy bed. He did enjoy his comforts. A muscular thigh slid between yours as his weight pressed you down into the mattress. You were already panting by the time his lips came down across yours. You grabbed fistfuls of his sandy hair. He groaned against your mouth.

'Play nice, ____-chan.’ He laved open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. Your eyes fluttered shut, mouth falling open when his tongue drifted over a stiff nipple. You pushed up against his thigh, desperate for some kind of friction. He liked to take his time when he finally had you cornered, but you couldn’t wait. Not today.

'Kisuke.’

'Do you need me so badly, princess?’

'You shit.’

He chuckled, breath hot against your chest, eyes looking up at you. He shook a chastening finger at you. 'Say please.’

He’d manipulated you into being naked and angry, and now he was going to make you beg for relief. 'Please,’ you gritted out.

'That’s my girl,’ he said in a husky tone of approval, shifting your thighs so he was fully between them. You dug your fingers into his shoulders. He undid his trousers, grasped your thighs and wrapped them around his hips. He groaned, low in his throat. He sank into you in three short strokes, making your spine arch as all the breath was pushed out of you. 'So wet already, princess?’

You didn’t dignify that with an answer, not that you had the breath to. You clung to his back as he moved over you, in you, digging your heels into the small of his back. The lean muscles there, hidden under layers of cloth, bunched and flexed as he drove into you. Pleasure clawed at your insides, trying to get out of your throat in gasps and moans.

His lips brushed your ear. 'Quiet, ____-chan,’ he said. 'You don’t want the children to hear.’

You kissed him hard, mostly just to shut him up. His licked along the seam of your lips until you got the hint and let him in. He held the back of your head, mimicking with his tongue the erotic dance that was going on below. Thrust and retreat, stroke and grind.

Soon, your back was an arch, your toes curled hard into the soles of your feet, your mouth opened in a silent cry. The orgasm rolled over you in slow, throbbing waves. Kisuke’s deep, husky moan against your throat only added to the overload of sensations.

He couldn’t hold out with you spasming so exquisitely around him. His hips pounded yours into the mattress in short, hard thrusts that drove the breath from your lungs. Lips covered yours. His back tensed and released, shuddering under your hands.

You let your head fall back, sucking in air like a glutton. Sandy hair tickled your cheek as he nuzzled you.

'You’re such an manipulative ass,’ you sighed.

'My love is so mean to me,’ he cooed, the effect somewhat spoiled by the lingering hoarseness in his voice. He pulled away from you. The still air in the room felt cool in comparison. Hands shifted your thighs open. You looked up from the pillow.

'Kisuke?’

A smoky chuckle. 'Look what a mess you’ve made, princess.’


	4. Kurosaki Ichigo/Reader ft. Urahara Kisuke and Abarai Renji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Features voyeurism/exhibitionism

Convincing Ichigo Kurosaki to try something new was a battle at the best of times. The man was reluctant to even try any other flavour of ice-cream than chocolate, let alone anything more exciting between the sheets. It had taken hint after hint, none of which he really picked up on, until you’d sat him down and frankly explained what you were getting at.

He’d turned red and fainted.

You kind of expected that.

After you’d given him a cold compress for the swelling on the back of his head, he’d been more willing to listen. When you went on to explain that only he would actually be touching you, he’d started to sound interested. Even a little aroused, in a smug, male, possessive way. Other men would have to sit and watch what he got to touch and enjoy.

Still, it took him weeks to get around to asking anyone. There were only so many people he could ask something like that without mortification. At one point you’d -jokingly- suggested Byakuya. Ichigo spent the next three hours rocking back and forth in the corner, whimpering, ‘Death, death, swirly petals of death.’

Finally, though, your surly little strawberry came through…

‘Maa~, Ichigo’s a lucky guy to have such a pretty girlfriend,’ Kisuke drawled, fanning himself. He wore a lazy expression. Despite his playful tone, his eyes were sharp, watching every move you made. He sat in corner of the bedroom, sprawled at his ease.

‘Dunno what she sees in him,’ Renji said, gruff. The fukutaicho wasn’t anywhere near as relaxed. He knelt in the seiza position, hands gripping his knees. His face was as red as his hair, and sweat beaded on his forehead, but he didn’t look away either. ‘I’m gonna be scarred by the sight of that pasty white ass.’

‘Hey!’ Ichigo snapped, looking up from where he was kissing your neck. A vein throbbed in his temple.

You laughed and pulled him back down. He had you sprawled on your futon, your clothes already half-open, skirt pushed up toward your hips. You pulled his lips to yours, looking past his closed eyes, and straight into Renji’s avid gaze. The redhead flushed further. You smiled against Ichigo’s mouth.

They were talking about you. Watching you. You shoved Ichigo off. He landed on his back, shirt half-open, wide-eyed.

’____-chan?’

You straddled him. He bit off a groan as you squirmed over his half-hard erection, stiffening further. His hands automatically went to your hips, encouraging you to grind down on him. You did so, head tilting back, growing damp between the thighs. Once you settled into a rhythm he liked, Ichigo worked the buttons of your shirt, simultaenously biting his lip to muffle himself.

He tugged the shirt off your shoulders and threw it to one side. You gathered your hair up and out of the way, treating Kisuke to a view of your undulating back. Ichigo, panting now, reached for your bra clasp. He fumbled, fingers trembling.

'Jeez, can’t even undo her bra? I could do it one-handed,’ Renji scoffed. His embarrassment faded the more he mocked Ichigo, the more skin you revealed. His little grin was sharp.

'Shut up, Renji!’ Ichigo snapped, cheeks flushing red.

'Ichi…stop breaking the fourth wall,’ you ordered, unclasping your bra yourself. You slid it down your arms, dropping it off the futon. There was a collective expulsion of breath in the room as three pairs of male eyes focused on your pert breasts, watching your nipples tighten in the air.

Ichigo, looking smug now, reached up and cupped them. From the corner of your eye, you could see Renji’s hands twitch on his knees as he longed to do the same. You turned your head to look at Kisuke. His mouth kicked up at one corner, sly. He gave you a slow wink.

’____-chan…’ Ichigo moaned, flushed. He was hard as a rock beneath you.

You got up off him, standing on the futon to unzip your skirt. It dropped down your legs. You kicked it away, leaving you in nothing but black thigh-highs and a pair of knickers.

They were covered in little strawberries.

Your boyfriend grinned at the sight of them. Kisuke chuckled. Ichigo sat up, hooking his fingers in them and sliding the little scrap of cotton down your thighs until you could kick them off. You stood there for a moment, letting them all see you. Their gazes trailed across your skin like a physical touch, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Slowly, you sank to your knees, sweeping your hair over your shoulder so it hid nothing from them.

You reached for Ichigo’s fly. He turned his head to the wall, flushing darker, embarrassed and aroused. His ridged abdomen bunched with each panting breath. He sprang free of his boxers. You took him in hand, making him hiss. Lifting your hips, you sank down on him, gasping as the thick member pushed into your body.

'Of course Ichigo’s the submissive…’ said Renji, his mocking tone edged with something hot and heavy. He was hunched over awkwardly, hiding the effect the sight of your body had on him. His eyes roamed your body with deep appreciation. ’____-chan’s too much woman for him.’

Ichigo turned his head to say something snappish, but you put a finger under his chin and turned his face back to yours. 'No, Ichi. Look at me. Only me.’

He grinned. He twitched inside you, driven even harder by your dominance. You sat up, throwing back your head, rolling your hips in a slow, sensual rhythm that soon had Ichigo squirming underneath you. His fingers dug into your thighs, then your ass. The little bite of pain formed the perfect counterpoint to the growing, grinding pleasure where your body joined his. You lifted your hair off your back, moaning softly.

A ragged little sigh from Renji made you turn your head. His eyes were hooded, smirk gone, fists pressed into the floor either side of him. You made eye contact, sliding a slow hand down your body. His eyes widened. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, hard. He looked between your heated stare and the delicate fingers you slipped between your legs. Your lips parted, a sigh of pleasure slipping out. He grunted and looked away, ears burning scarlet.

Ichigo groaned. Both the display and the pace at which you were riding him. Normally, he had fantastic staying power, but your hedonistic decadance was driving him insane. He thrust up into you, grabbing hard at your hips to pull you on and off himself.

You planted both hands on his chest. His fingers, rough, calloused, quickly replaced the ones his frantic motions had dislodged. You stiffened, sucking in a sharp breath as he rubbed hard at your clit. Orgasm blindsided you. You dug your fingernails into the hard planes of his chest, head falling down, hair spilling. Your cry of release was obscenely loud.

Ichigo turned the tables on your little tableau. He rolled you onto your back, pinning both arms above your head. You arched, stunned. He bent his head and growled into your ear.

'Now they can watch me fuck you, ____-chan.’

Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. Your feet dug into the bed as he set a bruising pace, slamming into you with all his suppressed lust and irritation at the other men staring at you. Your next orgasm was already in the works as he burned in and out of you. You tried to writhe, but he ground you into the mattress, still pinning your arms. Your moans became pathetic whimpers, feet flailing in the air in helpless need.

Your eyes nearly crossed with the brunt force of the second climax. Your inner muscles clamped down around him. With a rough grunt, Ichigo came, thrusts rough and jerky. His eyes closed, nose scrunching up as he tensed and relaxed. He released your arms immediately, sliding both arms underneath you. 

Panting, he nuzzled against your neck, turning his head to glare at Renji and Kisuke. There was more than just a hint of his inner-hollow in his words.

’Mine.’

Urahara clapped. 'Bravo. Five out five stars.’

Renji got to his feet, moving stiffly. 'Uh, ____-chan, can I use your bathroom?’

You caught your breath, smirked. 'Sure.’


	5. Coyote Starrk/Reader

A deep silence lay over a hidden corner of Las Noches. Far, far from the quarters of the other Arrancar, and the prying eyes of sadistic psychopaths like Syazelporro and Nnoitra, was a large, pillared series of rooms, barred from the inside. Within, slender windows threw slits of dead-white moonlight across the walls. You watched it track across stone through the hours. The rest of the room was darkness.

Your breathing was overly loud in the chamber, echoing back from the bare walls. There was nothing in the way of furnishings to soften and absorb the sound. Well, except the bed.

If it could be called that. It was a mound of green silk pillows, but comfortable enough. It was as about as still and silent as you could expect an enormous palace in the middle of Hueco Mundo to be, and until the meeting ended, your tucked-away corner would remain so. It was tempting, in the dragging hours of the night, to scream at the top of your lungs, just to hear something other than nothingness pressing up against your eardrums.

But you knew better. You were an indulgence, an allowance in accordance with good behaviour. Aizen-sama knew of your existence, and Lilynette, but no-one else. If someone like Nnoitra discovered your existence, without Starrk nearby, there was little in Hueco Mundo that would keep you safe.

The thought forced a cold splinter into your chest.

That was the reality of this place, and the strange symbiosis you’d entered into. Starrk bewitched you, confused you, sometimes even infuriated you. And all without trying. Someone he could touch without his overwhelming presence causing any harm. A woman, no less.

Was it any wonder he’d become fascinated with you?

His deep, unwavering need to ease his loneliness had been the driving factor. Lilynette was there, true, but she was the other half of himself. You were something else, entirely.

You turned over on the pillows, sighing softly into the dark.

A dull rattle of knuckles against the door.

You shot up, fear tightening your muscles as your mawkish thoughts from earlier came racing back.

‘It’s me.’

All of your breath rushed out at once, shoulders curling forward with relief. It was foolish, really, working yourself up for no reason. Starrk. You scrambled from the pillows, sending them skittering across the floor. The door was barred by a heavy iron lock. One that took all of your strength to turn.

The snap of it echoed through the spartan room. You pulled the door open only an inch, just in case. A familiar white glove curled around the edge of the door, pushing it open further. Starrk’s tall white form appeared from the darkness of the hallway outside. His blue-grey eyes burned like will-o-wisps in the dark. You stepped back out of the way, wrapping your arms around your torso. Your skin always prickled when he entered the room.

He turned and locked the door, not sparing you a glance. The mound of pillows was his chief desire, and he moved toward it like a man in the desert does an oasis. He barely stopped to kick off his boots before he fell face-down into the makeshift bed. You were left standing there, holding yourself, unsure of what to do.

His head turned. ‘Come here, then.’

Warmth flushed your body, replacing the chill. You went willingly back to the pillows, crawling onto them beside him. An arm like an iron band curled around your waist, hauling you straight into the warm cage of Starrk’s long limbs. You shuddered with relief, the hours of aching solitude melting away. You buried your face in the cloth of his uniform, gripping the back of his coat.

A tired sigh. ‘What is it.’

‘You were gone.’ Your voice was small, muffled, lost. Your fingers tightened.

Another sigh. He didn’t need you to explain. You didn’t need him to reply that he understood. Cool breath drifted across your cheek. He rearranged your sprawl across the pillows, and suddenly his silhouette loomed over you, a halo of moonlight in his unruly hair, eyes like dying grey stars. Something surged in your chest. Your breath stuttered.

His lips came down on yours without warning, shutting everything out. Your body began and ended where it touched his. Helpless, desperate, you delved your fingers into his soft hair, opening your mouth beneath his. He accepted the offering, replying with the glide of his tongue. He leaned all his weight on his elbow, above your head, caging you in, keeping you safe. He opened your robe with his free hand, sliding it down your bare stomach to your instinctively opening legs. He’d removed his gloves, and the heat of his palm burned you like a brand.

‘Starrk…’

‘Hush.’

You obeyed, lifting your hips into the lazy caress that only fuelled your ache. His fingers slid between your folds, sinking in deep. Your lips opened in a silent cry, feet lifting into the air as you brought your knees up. He watched you with lazy possession, seeming almost remote from the digits he worked in and out of you, the thumb he stroked across your clit, sending slow sparks through your body.

You lifted your mouth towards his, tugging at his hair to bring him back to you. You needed to be overwhelmed by him, the only solid presence in your life here. He curled his long fingers inside your body, pressing against a sweet spot that filled you with a hot ache. That, with the lazy strumming of his thumb, brought you to the shuddering peak of release. You mewled into his mouth, something uncoiling low in your abdomen. The muffled sound was loud in the room.

He pulled away, slipping his fingers free. He grasped your thighs, rolled onto his back. A strip of light fell over his face, shadowing his eyes. Still trembling, flushed, wanting, you peeled open his white uniform, revealing his long, rangy body. He was ready for you. He shifted his head, watching you from heavy-lidded eyes. If you wanted him, you would have to do the work. Eager, you straddled him, sank down on him slowly. It made your legs tremble.

As much as Starrk looked ambivalent, his hands couldn’t resist sliding up your thighs, pushing the robe further open, revealing more skin for the moonlight to play across. Your lips parted, your hips rising and falling in a slow, undulating roll that sent pleasure pulsating through you. Time seemed to slow. Starrk never took his eyes off you, his face almost calm except for a faint crease between his eyebrows, giving him a pensive expression.

You might almost think he felt nothing at all if it weren’t for the tightening around his eyes, and the lean hips that fidgeted under yours. Soon, sweet, tight heat coiled inside you again. So close. He grunted, gripping your hips as you clenched down around him, muscles fluttering. The world turned on its axis and your back hit the cushions, pressed down by his superior height and weight. Delighted, you wriggled under him

His hips ground into yours, his voice low and demanding. ‘Say my name.’

'Starrk!’

'No.’

'C-Coyote…’

'That’s it,’ he said. There was a catch in his voice. He was losing control. He shunted his pelvis into yours, driving into you with sudden and unexpected force, burning along all your sweet spots. You stiffened, clutching at his shoulders as you came again, head kicking back. A long sigh was his only concession to his own release, hands fisted in the cloth either side of your head. His head drooped down to your shoulder, unkempt hair brushing the side of your face. 

You wrapped both arms around his neck, clinging.You could breathe, at last. Lazy, apathetic as he was, he drove away all the silence and the shadow.

His voice vibrated against your neck. 'I can stay a while.’


	6. Hirako Shinji/Reader

He’d been working longer hours. Some issue with paperwork that he could never be bothered to fully explain, and you couldn’t be bothered to listen to. The bureaucratic fuck-up was a mess of red-tape, and no-one could pinpoint where the blame lay, so everyone in the Fifth and First divisions was picking up the slack.

The upshot of that was your partner coming home every day for the past two weeks with bags under his eyes, slumped shoulders, and an irritable mood. At first you’d tried playing it off, giving neck rubs, or just dropping into his lap to give him cuddles, but the effects of those wore off. The last few days, he’d just muttered a greeting and wanted to go straight to lying face-down on the couch.

Enough was enough.

You were bringing out the big guns.

It was late evening. You lounged on the couch, flipping through a novel you’d already read. Too much effort to try getting into a new one when your stomach was a mess of buzzing nerves. This was the first time you’d dared do something this…brazen. Normally, sex between you two came as a result of hours of teasing remarks whispered in your ear, and long, crafty fingers slipping places they shouldn’t during a cuddling session. Shinji was nothing if not thorough.

But that also meant you’d never had to approach him for what you wanted. Needed, now.

A shopping trip, a small glass of liquor to get your courage up, and here you were. The tie of your kosode was knotted loosely, for quicker removal.

Your head jerked up at the turn of the front door lock. You threw the book down, and leapt into action. Feet slipping across the floor in haste, you flipped the arm on the record player. Soft jazz rolled out. You dimmed the lights a little, but not too much. He had to see you after all.

From down the hall, you could hear him kicking off his sandals in the genkan, his zanpakuto whacking the wall as he fumbled. Tired grumbling. The sound made your stomach clench in uncertainty, but it was a bit late to go back now.

You yanked at your obi. It fell open, the kosode spilling off your shoulders. You tossed it over the back of the couch. Cool air pebbled your skin with goosebumps.

You leaned against the open door to the living room, waiting for him to come down the hall. Feeling a little silly, you put one hand on your hip, and the other up behind your head, offering him the full picture of what you wore.

Finally, he appeared. His robe hung off one shoulder, the back of his hair mussed where he’d run his hand through it, his cravat askew. His eyes were dull and tired.

‘Welcome home, Hirako-taicho…’ you purred.

He looked up at the sound of your voice. The tired expression vanished from his face entirely. His lips parted, eyes travelling from your face and down your body in a slow, lingering trail. His fingers twitched on the hilt of his zanpakuto.

You made quite a sight. Your short, slender figure in the palest pink lingerie, all soft lace and ruffles. The icing on the cake was the sheer, thigh-high white stockings, connected to a lace garter belt around your waist. A soft blush painted your cheeks.

Slowly, a wide, wicked smile crossed Shinji’s face. ‘Hello, darlin’…’

You padded toward him, pressing your hands to his chest. He let you come to him, watching everything with hooded eyes, and that grin. You pushed his white haori off his shoulders, tugging it free and tossing it toward the couch. His zanpakuto followed.

Before you could turn back around, long, thin hands grasped your hips, and hot breath purled against the back of your neck. You closed your eyes, shivering in anticipation. Those same hands slid down over your backside, tracing the backs of your thighs, a single fingertip slipping between to stroke at the silk of your knickers. A kiss brushed the nape of your neck.

‘This all fer me, doll?’ Oh, god, his voice was sin.

'Yes…’ You wished you had a little more power in your voice. It was all breath and sigh. But, if anything, he liked that even more.

'Ya missed me that much?’ he said, finger slipping into your underwear. He made a noise of appreciation. 'Yer already wet…’

'I-it’s been a while,’ you protested, shivering as he pressed closer to your back. His hair tickled your shoulder as he moved to whisper in your ear.

'Ya want me?’ His finger made delicate, tingling circles right where you needed it most.

'Y-yes.’

'Yes, what?’

You knew exactly what to say. 'Yes, Hirako-taicho.’

'Since ya asked so nicely…’ He pressed down on the back of your neck, bending you at the waist. You braced yourself on the living room wall, toes curling against the hardwood floors in anticipation. Cloth rustled. He tugged aside the silk of your underwear, and something hot, blunt and hard pressed against you.

You bit your lower lip to muffle the moan. It didn’t work. He heard you, and chuckled, squeezing your hips. He entered in one long, slow thrust that made nerves twitch and tingle. It was a tighter fit than ever; he was painfully hard.

'Yer so cute,’ he said, backing out and pushing back in. Languorous and slow, teasing like the jerk he was. 'Waitin’ fer me all dolled up like this. Ya like that, baby?’

You could only moan in answer. Your head hung down between your outstretched arms, legs quivering as liquid heat built inside you. You’d been waiting for this, wanting this, all day. It wouldn’t take long. Just…just a little more.

'Ya want more, darlin’?’ His hand slipped around your waist, spanning your stomach for an instant before it slid down under the waistband of your knickers. His fingers stopped a centimetre away from where you wanted them. 'C'mon, baby, tell me what ya want.’

'Aah~ touch me…’ you got out, crying out in bliss when his fingertips dipped between your folds, rubbing firmly. He needed you to come quickly.

Every thrust of his hips pushed you into his fingers. Soon, you were letting out soft, helpless moans with each roll of his pelvis. Your arms trembled, struggling to support you against the wall. Shinji planted his own hand against the wall, just above your head. He pressed his finger hard against your clit. You tightened down around him, eyes screwing shut, muscles jerking as pleasure mounted.

He thrust harder, forgetting the teasing in favour of fucking you senseless. You had no way to muffle your mewls and whimpers as your orgasm hit, drowning out the jazz with your own musical sounds. You clamped down around him, gripping him in a slick, tight vise.

Shinji let loose a ragged moan, driving into you in short, hard jerks, his free hand digging into your thigh. You sagged against the wall, panting. You felt him slip loose, making you twitch one last time. You sighed, satisfied at last. He chuckled, a bit breathless, and helped you stand upright. Your legs wobbled.

'Look at ya, all weak at the knees fer me.’

You sighed, grinning as he bent his head to kiss you. 'Shut up, Shinji.’


	7. Madarame Ikkaku/Reader

You were late. Your big night with Ikkaku, and you were late. Godammnit. Not only were you late, you were an exhausted, sweaty mess. It was at times like this you thought that you really ought to work on your shunpo. If you were better, you could flash-step to the eleventh division and arrive cool as a cucumber, but no, here you were, hoofing it. Your shihakusho stuck to your back, your breath came in ragged pants, and your legs were rubbery by the time the outbuildings of the eleventh division came into view. No-one spared you a glance as you raced through the gates.

Well, almost.

’Please tell me you’re not going to see Ikkaku looking like that.’ The contemptuous drawl issued from a covered porch. Yumichika, lounging on his elbow, gave you the most personally-offended look you’d ever recieved. Under that violet-eyed gaze you felt every inch the ragamuffin you looked. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be going on a date?’

‘I…yes, but we were busy at the fourth. I didn’t have time to change,’ you protested weakly. ‘I’m running late.’

Yumichika gave an elegant snort, waving a dismissive hand. ‘Better late than looking like you just crawled out of the sewers. Or did you just crawl out of the sewers?’

Your eyes narrowed. Ikkaku’s friend or not, his tone rankled your nerves. You’d already had the day from hell, and his cool, relaxed posture was just a slap in the face. You wiped your forehead with your sleeve, huffing. ‘Don’t forget who healed your face when you came in after that little glue accident with your feathers.’

His expression melted into a mask of horror. 'You wouldn’t.’

'Keep insulting me and find out,’ you groused, leaving him in the shade of the porch. You liked Yumichika most of the time, but his shallowness and narcissism could aggravate a saint.

Ikkaku’s rooms weren’t far. You slowed to a walk, feeling as though the dust of half the seireitei clung to you. Your hair was a tangled mess, and a glance in a passing window showed that you were lobster-red. Shiny. Ew.

His door suddenly intimidated you. You hesitated, hand half-raised to knock. Maybe you should go home and change? No, there wasn’t time. He must already be waiting for you.

You knocked. Your lips pressed together, prepared to accept his look of disgust at the sight of you. You could explain. Maybe if you got time to go home to shower and change you could still-

The door was ripped open.

'What the hell, can’t a man take a bath-’

'I-Ikkaku?!’

’____-chan?!’

He was naked. Naked and dripping. You stared. He stared. There was a long, long silence.

'I…I, um, I was running late,’ you said faintly, staring hard at his face. Just his face. Your face burned hot with embarrassment. He looked like steam was about to come shooting from his ears. Don’t look down. Don’t. 'I’m a bit gross from running here. I should…um, I should go take a shower.’

'Damn.’ He covered himself with both hands. 'I wasn’t expecting you for another twenty minutes. Women are never on time!’

'Apart from when they are,’ you muttered. Your eyes slipped down of their own accord. His body was packed with muscle, long arms and legs and a chest so sculpted it must have been worked on by Michaelangelo on crack. Your mouth dried out. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, cheeks flushing darker. 'I should let you get back to…’

'Why don’t you join me, ____-chan?’ His voice had dropped an octave. You looked up, guilty. His eyebrow quirked. His grin was a wicked little slice across his face. Your mouth dropped open. Join him? Sure, you needed a wash but… Your pulse throbbed. 'We can start our date right now,’ he added, fidgeting and readjusting his hands.

You swallowed, eyes tracking down his body once again. And you really could use a shower…or a bath… 'O-okay.’

His grin turned feral. 'Come on in, babe.’

Your stomach dropped. He hadn’t called you that before. The pet name dropping from his lips did intense, shivery things to your insides. He stepped back, letting you in. You shut the door behind you, since his hands were, uh, busy. He turned and started walking back to the bath. Your eyes fixated on the two firm globes of muscle above his legs. He had a really tight little-

'I can feel you staring at my ass.’ He didn’t sound too unhappy about it.

You spluttered. 'W-well, it’s right there.’ Was it you, or was he clenching all of a sudden? '’Should I undress?’ you asked, scarcely believing the words were leaving your mouth.

He looked over his shoulder. 'Arent'cha gonna let me do it for you?’

Steam curled out of the bathroom door like ghostly, beckoning fingers. 'If you want to~’ you breathed. It felt as though your skin was contracting all over, hot, tight, prickling. Your clothes itched to be on the floor. Before you knew it, Ikkaku was behind you. You startled as large hands came around your waist, tugging efficiently at your rumpled shihakusho. The cloth parted with wanton ease, layers unravelling as Ikkaku unwrapped you like a present. A husky chuckle brushed your ear as his hands slid underneath.

Your breath hitched as he divested you of every scrap. You were naked in his bathroom, and something hard brushed your ass.

’Damn, ____-chan,’ he growled. 'I haven’t even done my lucky dance yet.’

You grinned, half-amused, half breathless.

Teeth grazed your shoulder. 'In you get, babe.’

Oh, right, the bath. It was wide, deep, and full nearly to the brim. You stepped in, sighing as hot water lapped at your knees, then your thighs. Ikkaku was right behind you. You didn’t get a chance to hesitate. Large, greedy hands grabbed you by the hips and pulled you right into his lap. You could feel him, long and stiff, against the small of your back. Something inside throbbed.

He didn’t waste a second. Sword-calloused fingers dragged over your skin. You stiffened, back arching as that touch slid up your stomach, brushing the undersides of your breasts. He cupped them, squeezing gently. You inhaled sharply. He waited a moment, then strummed both his thumbs across your nipples. You pushed your chest harder into his hands, wanting more of that elusive pulse of pleasure.

'You like that, ____-chan?’

'Yes…’

'How 'bout this?’ He tugged at both nipples, rolling the sensitive flesh between his fingertips. Your head lolled back on to his shoulder. He tormented you, playing with you until you ached. You were so full of hot, squirming anticipation that you didn’t even notice the sly hand creeping down until a single fingertip slid between the lips of your core. Your eyes snapped open. 'And this?’

'Y-yes.’

He rocked himself against you, tracing his finger over your clit. 'You want this too?’

Your reply was a moan. Answer enough. He lifted your hips, shifted himself, and pulled you back down. Your mouth fell open as his thick member pushed inside, inch by inch. In one long, slow draw, he pulled your ass flush with his hips. He bit off a groan, turning it into a laugh. 'You gotta be on time more often, babe.’

He twitched inside you, and you shuddered as it set off a stinging spark of pleasure. More. You lifted yourself up and down, bracing your hands on the edges of the tub for support. He dragged over every sweet spot you had. Your arms trembled with each lift, and you gasped every time you fell down. He let you work yourself on him, hands roaming your hips and breasts. He pinched the tip of a breast. Your whimper echoed through the bathroom.

He did it again. And his other hand sneaked over your hip, one long, broad finger finding its target with precision. Triple-point pleasure assaulted you, leaving you limp, shaking. His name tripped off your lips. ’Ikkaku.’

'C'mon, babe, you’re close. I can feel it.’ He grunted as you rode him harder. 'That’s it. That’s my good girl.’

You were going to get him for that little remark later, but you were busy. Your inner walls convulsed. Every muscle tightened, trembled and released. Heat flooded you in slow, throbbing waves. Your cries echoed back at you off the walls. Hard hands grabbed your ass, forcing you up and down his shaft at a brutal pace as he pounded himself to orgasm inside you.

He gave a harsh grunt, digging his fingers into your soft flesh. His breath was ragged, his voice a croak. 'Babe…’

Bonelessly satisfied, you snuggled back into Ikkaku’s arms. You were smug. 'Yumichika can suck it.’

'Wait…what?’


	8. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez/Reader

'Open your legs, already, woman,' he drawled, sounding deeply amused at the way your thighs had clamped together around his wandering hand. His big, toothy grin loomed in your face. His blue eyes burned with wild mischief. 'You scared?'

'N-no,' you denied, and it wasn't quite a lie. The rough fingers sliding up your thigh felt good. Too good. You didn't think you could take it.

He could force your legs open if he wanted, but he wouldn't. He was proud as a kicked cat, and he wanted you to want him. He'd been patient as a fucking saint, according to him, and now you'd given him the go-ahead, he wanted you sweating and moaning at his mercy. You stared back, defiant, and edged your knees apart, daring him to accuse you of being scared one more time.

Instead he smirked. 'That's it, little kitten...'

The purr in his voice pooled liquid heat in your core. He stroked your sex with his fingertips, tickling. Your fingers twitched on your bedspread, tugging wrinkles in the sheets. Your ribcage cranked up and down, your tongue darted out to wet your lower lip. He watched your face with intense scrutiny, lips still peeled back from his teeth. He shifted over your body like a jungle cat crouching over its kill: lazy, deadly, intent.

A wide, calloused thumb pushed between the lips of your sex, brushing over the bundle of nerves that sat high over your core. A faint frisson darted through you, a ripple like light on water. Grimmjow's grin turned feral, now he could finally touch you where he'd been burning to touch you. He wanted you drenched before he even got down there. He rubbed teasing circles around your clit, even as he lowered his head to your chest. His eyes held yours as he nipped playfully at your puckered nipple. Your stomach clenched in momentary fear, but no pain came.

Still, your tension put a predatory light in his eyes, and he wrapped his lips around the tip of your breast, sealing it into a the hot, wet cavern of his mouth with a vicious suck. Your spine arched, a grunt forcing its way out of your throat. His index and middle fingers stroked your clit hard. A shudder ran through your body and your legs slammed shut on his wrist. You couldn't decide whether you wanted to stop him or trap him there so he couldn't stop.

He released your breast with a wet pop, glaring down at you. 'What did I say?' he snarled, pulling his hand out of your grasp without even a pretense of difficulty.

You fought for words, an explanation, an apology, but he was already moving. Big, strong hands grabbed your thighs and pushed you wide open, exposing you to his hungry gaze.

He looked down at your glistening pink flesh, a sinister grin forming on his lips. 'I'll just have to hold you open if you can't control yourself.'

He tossed your legs carelessly over his shoulders, hauling your hips up, up until only your upper back was on the bed. Hot breath fluttered against you as he drank in the sight before him. You stared, anxiety knotting in your stomach. His eyes lifted to yours, half-closing. His tongue was wide and hot as he dragged it up the full length of your slit. Immediately, every muscle in your body pulled taut, your thighs straining against his hold. He didn't budge an inch.

He lifted his head, sneering. 'Nice try, kitten. I've been wanting to taste you for ages.'

Those words sent your thoughts into a dizzy, lustful spiral. He lapped at you, dragging his rough tongue over your clit again and again. The small bud flushed with blood, engorged and slick with his saliva and your fluids. He probed everywhere, circling you with the tip of his tongue, flicking against your clit. You pressed both hands over your mouth, trying to muffle helpless moans and squeals.

He pulled away from you. 'You better not try to be quiet, woman. I want everyone to hear.'

You gaped at him, outraged, even in your undignified position. He looked back, smug. He was holding your pleasure hostage, that jerk! You didn't really relish the idea of everyone hearing your noises, but you wanted him back between your thighs. Deliberately, you pulled your hands away from your mouth and put them behind your head. His eyes flashed, pleased, and he lowered his mouth back down to where it was needed most.

He was a fucking tease. He nibbled gently at your clit until you moaned, then sucked it into his mouth, groaning around your sensitive flesh. A guttural sound left you, unladylike, undignified, undeniably sexual. You wanted to thrust against the sensation, but your thighs just slid helplessly back and forth over his broad shoulders, your hips held in place by his hands on your ass. Every time your moans began to echo off the walls, he changed tactics. Alternated how his tongue flexed against you. Normally he had a foul mouth, but fuck, he knew how to use it.

You were burning, heat gathering into a tight knot in your gut. You moved restlessly on the sheets, heels digging into Grimmjow's back. He relished your undoing, your loss of composure. Your taste was incredible, and all the better for his being the first to taste it. And the last, he added silently in his mind, squeezing your ass in one hand as he slid the other around so he could sink a long finger into your wet heat. You cried out at the invasion, spasming around his digit. He worked it in and out of you, making come-hither motions, loosening you up to add another finger. You undulated in his grasp, whimpering. He wasn't going to give you what you needed until you begged.

You grudgingly let go of your pride. 'Grimmjow...please.'

That was what he wanted to hear. He latched onto your clit with a hard suck, twisting his fingers in your tight channel. The tension inside you exploded. Endorphins pounded through your bloodstream, your muscles winding tight and releasing. Your head kicked back on the pillow, moans working free of your throat as you convulsed. Grimmjow put your hips down, only to crush you to the bed with his much larger body. A snarl ripped through his chest, rattling you down to the bones, as he claimed your mouth in a blistering kiss.

'I think I like it when you beg, ____.'

'Prick.'


	9. Ukitake Jushiro/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's the cutest...

Jushiro sighs. He’s fairly sure he’s still going to be doing this paperwork until he’s as old as Yamamoto was. Kiyone and Sentaro spent the whole day off somewhere, doing god-knows-what to prove their loyalty and respect for him. Sometimes, Jushiro really just wishes they’d prove their loyalty by doing their own paperwork, because with Rukia on a mission, the only person left with the clearance to go over it is him. And so, that leaves him stuck sitting at the polished wooden table in his living room, chin braced on his upturned hand. His eyes are gritty and there’s a niggling ache building in his temples. He’s been staring at black-on-white all day and the words are beginning to squiggle around.

‘Jushiro?’ The soft, melodic voice breaks him from his trance and he looks up. You’re standing in the doorway, your hands clasped around a cup. Steam curls up from it to frame your face, which is taut with concern. Something warm surges in his chest at the sight of you, especially when you come toward him and set the cup at his elbow. His expression settles into the adoring smile he wears around you so often. He stretches out an arm to encircle you in it. Your lips brush his temple. ‘You work too hard,’ you chastise gently, tapping the report in front of him. ‘Did your stalkers skive off again?’

He chuckles, despite himself. He really wants nothing more than to leave all this on the table and bury his face in your hair. ‘They did. Perhaps I should let you have another “talk” with them, ____?’

‘Don’t tease,’ you scold playfully. ‘Kiyone was drunk on the job. What else was I supposed to do?’

‘She hasn’t done it since,’ he says. He remembers the stern scolding you gave his third seat, and the squirming, embarrassed flush on Kiyone’s face at being caught out. He shouldn’t have enjoyed your strict words as much as he did. Sometimes he entertains the idea of bringing you to the office to help keep his subordinates in line when he’s too sick or too soft-hearted to do it himself. He often thinks you’ll also be the disciplinarian when you two have children. 

‘Well, that just means it worked, right?’ you retort, oblivious to his meandering thoughts. You land another kiss on him, his cheek this time. He tilts his face toward you, feeling his tension headache begin to waver and fade just from your presence. But he has to get back to work. He eyes the reports with real reluctance. You leave him with a cup of tea and fond, abstract thoughts.

Several hours pass in a haze of mission reports and budget lists. His headache returns with a vengeance. He yawns. The house is quiet. He assumes you’re reading somewhere or have gone to bed. Truthfully, he’s looking forward to crawling into bed with your warm, sleeping body and falling into oblivion.

You’re not reading. Or sleeping.

You’re grinning like the cat that got the cream. Target acquired. He’s slumped over the desk, forehead braced on his fingers, his dark eyebrows knotted into a weary frown. It’s really not fair, you think, that he’s still so damn handsome even when he frowns. His hair is mussed at the back, evidence of tired hands running through it. He hasn’t noticed you yet. You watch as he rubs his fingers against the bridge of his nose. You pad into the room.

His head jerks up. ‘You’re still up, love?’

You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on the loose collar of your kosode, where it exposes your collarbones and a smooth expanse of shoulder. You smile, stomach fluttering with anticipation. You’ve tied your obi so your hem splits around your legs when you move. He loves your legs. His eyes flicker down, then quickly back up. ‘Did you come to say goodnight?’ he asks ruefully. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so busy-’

You hum softly, cutting him off with your mouth. Your fingers slide under his chin, tilting it up so you can press your lips more fully against his. He sighs through his nose, breath fluttering against your cheek. He smooths a hand down the length of your hair. You can tell he’s expecting you to pull away and bid him goodnight. Fat chance of that. You slide a hand around the back of his neck, curling your fingers into the thick, silky hair at his nape. He makes a muffled noise, like he’s trying to speak. His hands land on your waist, as though he’s about to pull away.

You don’t give him the chance. Slipping around the back of his chair, you smooth your hands over his shoulders, feeling their breadth. He turns his head to look at you from the corner of his eye, an amused quirk to his mouth. ‘What are you up to?’ Your thumbs work magic, digging into tense muscles. Before long, the taicho is slumped forward, head bowed. He groans, rolls his shoulders into your touch. You rub circles into the back of his neck. 

He’s suitably disarmed. You comb his hair out of the way, and kiss the back of his neck. A minute shiver passes through him. He lifts his head. ‘____…’

You nibble the join between his neck and his shoulder, folding aside the collar of his shihakusho for access. His skin is firm, hot under your mouth. He mutters something, shifting in his seat. ‘Sweetheart, I have to-’

‘You need to relax, ‘shiro,’ you purr, sliding your hands around him to his front. He stiffens as your fingers trail down his chest, sliding into the collar of his robes. You find warm skin. His breath hitches under your touch, his hands clench on the edge of the table. ‘____, darling.’ His voice is deeper, strained. ‘I should really finish-’

‘You will,’ you promise, nibbling the shell of his ear. His hisses between his teeth as your lips close around his earlobe and suck gently. Your mouth is hot, engulfing, and he struggles to keep his composure. You trail kisses down his neck, pausing to suck the hot spots under his jaw that make him fidget in his chair. Before he realises, you’ve untied his obi. His kimono and nagajuban fall open like willing co-conspirators. Cool air brushes his stomach. Your hands slide down, down, down. He should gently let you down, tell you he’ll make it up to you later, but…

Your hand slips into his hakama. He’s fully aroused, throbbing against your palm. He doesn’t mind that much, then. A low groan. You chuckle into his neck, giving him a languorous stroke. His hips jerk forward into your hand. His breath is shallow, his head tipped back against the backrest of his chair, eyes half-closed. You hide a smug smile in his shoulder. A taicho of the Gotei 13, putty in your hands. 

His hand closes on your wrist, grip firm and implacable as a rock. You freeze. His head turns, a flicker of lightning in his dark eyes. His voice is heavy with desire. ‘If you must insist on distracting me, my love, then we should make it worthwhile.’ He pulls on your hand, bringing you round to his front. He makes a picture, dishevelled and half-undressed, fully erect and looking at you with eyes full of heat. Your knees wobble, mouth drying out. I’m the luckiest woman in the seireitei…

‘Come here, sweetheart.’ His hands grasp your waist and he pulls you into his lap. One firm tug and your kosode falls open with a sigh of silk. Jushiro doesn’t waste time. Large, warm hands trail over your naked curves, stroking up your back. You arch into his touch, head falling back when he buries his snowy head in the curve of your neck. He sucks at the skin, drawing a muffled sigh from your lips. He trails kisses up your neck and over your jaw until he finds the softness of your mouth. His kiss is lingering, sweet, his arms constricting to press your naked front to his. Skin on skin draws pleased murmurs from you both.

‘As much as I hate to reward such bad behaviour…’ he teases, nuzzling under your jaw. You huff with laughter, in sensual heaven as his fingers run possessively over your skin. You loop your arms around his neck and sink your hands into that glorious, silky hair. He murmurs, pleased, as your fingers scrape delicately over his scalp. His hands squeeze the supple flesh of your hips, helping you to rise up and sink down on him. His fingers twitch, he makes a faint noise in the back of his throat. It’s a glorious stretch, as satisfying as the flush on his handsome face. 

He’s seated comfortably inside. You both pause to appreciate, eyes locked, grinning mischievously. You pull his head down and press your lips to his, moving your hips in a slow, lazy roll. Liquid heat curls low down in your stomach as you lean back, supported by his broad hands. Your head falls back, eyes fluttering shut. He enjoys the tableau of your body arched and limp in his arms. Breathy kisses flutter down your throat, his hair trailing over your skin. Wet heat surrounds the tip of your breast, his mouth sucking in greedy pulls. You shudder, moaning softly; it’s like he has a central line to your core. 

Your fingers tighten in his hair, hips jerking hard against him. He detaches with a startled moan, panting against your dampening flesh. His groans are low, husky, heavy. You’re moving before you know it. Cool wood presses against your back, Jushiro looms above you, hands planted on the table, hair hanging down, blocking out everything else in a curtain of white. His eyes stand out stark. He grins, leaning down to nudge his nose against yours.

‘Sweetheart…’ he says, thrusting into you with a sharp snap of his lean hips. You tense as hot pleasure twists inside you, reaching up for him. He covers your mouth with his, the first hint of tongue stroking across your lips. He claims your mouth, all slick tongue and nibbling teeth, muffling your mewls as you drives into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to move just…just a bit more~

His length shifts inside you, brushing a spot that makes you see stars. ‘Jushiro~’ He adjusts the angle of his hips, brushing fervent kisses across your face as he moves inside you. You arch from the desk, clinging to him, clutching at his back. Throbbing heat floods your body, your core pulsates around him in long ripples as you muffle a keening cry against his shoulder. He buries his head in your neck, low moans issuing from his throat. 

Your entire body relaxes, each muscle unwinding in a delicious procession of glowing pleasure. Jushiro pants, presses a delicate kiss to your naked skin. Your fingers stroke through his hair, tangled and slightly damp. His expression, when he lifts his head, is full of adoration. He grins, wry. ‘You’re a bad influence.’

You smile coyly. ‘You’re too good for your own good.’

He laughs, rich and warm. ‘Have I told you I love you?’


	10. Aizen Sosuke/Reader

It all starts with a look. To a third party, it is entirely innocent. A pair of brown eyes, calmly watching a pretty young woman. To anyone but you. To you, it’s the pin that holds the butterfly down for examination. It’s like a physical touch.

You pretend not to notice, even as your hand creeps to the back of your neck. You smooth down the hairs that have stood up. Your eyes remain fixed on the words in front of you, moving mechanically across the page. A cool breeze floats in over the balcony, stirring your hair against your face. The lazy gaze from across the room is deceptive. It burns against you.

You try to remain composed, but your heart is thundering against the bone cage of your ribs. A tingle begins in your feet. Is that his reiatsu? Or just the power of the man himself? You know if you turn your head, you’ll see him sitting at his ease in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, his chin braced on his elegant hand. Eyes fixed on you.

You don’t turn your head. The air feels thick, charged, and you’re finding it harder and harder to breathe. He does this every so often. You’ll barely see him for days, and then he’ll appear out of nowhere during one of your quiet moments -reading, dozing, sewing, painting, whichever you feel like doing- and focus all of his attention on you.

For a man who sometimes fades into nothing more than the occasional warm presence at your back when he deigns to sleep, his sudden appearance can be startling. You’re never quite sure what to say when he pops up out of the blue. Normally you just quietly carry in whatever you were doing while he fills his eyes with you. If he wants to, he will speak.

’____.’ The syllables slip free in a quiet, resonant baritone. Goosebumps flood your back. You close your eyes, breathe in slowly. Steady.

’S-Sosuke…’ You still stutter, even with all your breathing exercises and mental reinforcements. It doesn’t matter what you do. You can’t get used to him, to being here, to being his. Yours are the only lips allowed to call him by his first name and you can scarcely manage it.

Cloth rustles. You close your eyes. A mixed rush of intimidation, exhilaration, and want, floods your system. It’s been a little while and you can barely remember the last time he kissed you. He has much bigger concerns than you, so you’re often torn between extreme flattery and slight guilt when he pays attention to you. Not that you would ever push him away.

Your hair is lifted from the nape of your neck. It’s good that you’re sitting. The first brush of warm air against your skin makes you tense. It’s quickly followed by the lightest press of something warm and pliant. Lips. Heat melts your insides. Your hands loosen around the book. It slides free and clatters to the floor.

You shiver. His reiatsu blankets you like a cloak of lightning. He rarely suppresses it these days, not even for you. In fact, he amps it up when it’s you, because he loves the way it makes you tremble. He can being Grimmjow to his knees with it. He can make you a needy mess with it. There’s no more pretending now. You turn around on the padded window seat, turning to face him.

There’s a glint in his eyes. They are focused on you, that labyrinth of a mind is fixated on you, and only you. Long fingers curl under your chin, tilting it up. ‘Did you miss me?’

The answer is obvious. ‘Yes.’ Not much changes in those cool patrician features. His eyelids lower a fraction, his mouth curves up at one corner. Your stomach still drops. He bends at the waist, lowering his six feet of height so his face is level with yours.

‘How much did you miss me, ____?’ he asks, his eyes staring into yours, thumb tracing your lips to feel the shape of your words.

‘Very much,’ you get out, breathless and shaky. It’s not fear. It’s all-consuming awe. Want. Lust. Need.

His voice lowers an octave into a purr. ‘That’s what I hoped.’ His head lowers further. The strand of hair that falls over his eyes brushes against your jaw moments before his lips close on to soft skin of your neck. He sucks gently. You reach out, daring, and put your hands on his shoulders. Your fingers tighten in the heavy white cloth. He takes it as encouragement.

You’re small. It doesn’t take much for him to scoop you up. He does so in the most graceful, efficient way possible, and the world tilts on its axis. Before you know it, there is a soft mattress sinking below your weight. Sosuke cages you in with his arms, his knees either side of your hips. You’re practically humming with excitement. His fingers trail from your neck into the collar of your garment.

He pops open the ties, each with a proprietary little jerk that makes you jump. His expression is as calm as ever. He looks more amused than anything. He never lets his wants show on his face. Only when…

'You still blush?’ he asks mildly, opening the two halves of your shirt. You have nothing underneath. He can see just how far down your blush goes. Your nipples pucker in the cool air, begging for attention.

'I…’ You fail to string together an explanation or a defence. He doesn’t seem to mind. Hands smooth down your bare waist, shrugging the cloth further aside. He lingers on the waistband of your long skirt, thumbs sliding underneath to stroke the jut of your hips. You fidget, face and chest growing hotter. He eyes you, smirking faintly.

He slides your skirt and underwear off in a mere eyeblink. You yelp, expecting to be forced down against the bed and ravished. However, now he has you naked, he’s spent all his impatience. Sosuke likes to take his time, when he has it to spare. He doesn’t just conquer, he needs to usurp. He wants your head full of him, every sense.

Finally, finally, he lowers himself over you. The cloth of his coat is rough against your bare skin. It rubs against your aching breasts and you press yourself harder into him. A chuckle ghosts against your ear. He kisses you, at last. Thin lips slant across yours with a hint of teeth.

You give yourself up to it completely as the heat sears you to your toes. You card your fingers into his hair. He murmurs against your mouth, shifting his weight over you in a way that puts pressure in all the right places. An ache blooms. His hand slides under your head, cupping your skull. He wants you at precise angles. His tongue sliding into your mouth is so dizzyingly intimate, you whimper.

Your hands pull at his uniform. A needy gesture. He is all heat and hardness wrapped in Hueco Mundo white. The king. The god. You sometimes wonder what other women he has enthralled in his past, but what do they matter? You are under him right now. He is the only one that can touch you. Nnoitra, Syazel, Grimmjow…none of them are even permitted to look in your direction. Aizen keeps you for himself. His alone.

It’s as though he can read your mind. 'Whose are you?’ he asks in your ear. He cups your breast, feeling your nipple tighten against his broad palm.

'Yours,’ you pant. The heat of him burns your skin. You keen as he retracts his hand until just his fingers surround the rosy bud. He tugs and you arch from the bed. Sweet, fleeting bolts of pleasure. He rolls the tender flesh between his calloused fingers. The sensation twists you into hot knots, low down deep. Your eyes are shut, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

You don’t notice he’s moved until damp heat surrounds you. He sucks. You moan, startled. ’S-Sosuke…’

He doesn’t reply, busy with his latest game. With a hand braced by your head for balance, his other traces a journey over your stomach and between your shaking thighs. Your stomach clenches. Desperate anticipation. He needs only a single finger to feel how soaked you are. His digit slips over your clit with negligent motions. Enough to torment, to titillate.

Your hips jerk up. He pulls his mouth from you. His voice is cool. 'Behave yourself.’

You chew your lip, and obey. He adds a second finger, stroking in a lazy rabbit-ear motion that has you seeing stars. He nibbles your other breast, looking up at you from beneath his eyelashes. His eyes are darker, the brown pushed out by expanded black pupils. He circles your clit until your eyes are ready to roll back, stroking you slicker by the second.

You cry out when his finger pushes inside. No warning. None needed, since you’re drenched. His fingers are long, deft. He knows exactly what sweet spots to hit, where to press, where to rub. Your hips roll up to grind on his digits. One, then two. He lifts his head to watch the dazed, pleasured expression on your face. You might be embarrassed if you didn’t know this is exactly what he wants. He wants your submission and your wanton need for him.

Just before you reach your peak, he pulls his fingers free. You ache with disappointment. Until he sits up and tugs open his uniform. Smooth skin, broad shoulders, lean muscle. His clothes hit the floor with a muffled thud. You run your fingers down his arms. He doesn’t object to your tentative caress. Instead he leans down into you, allowing your touch to run across his shoulders and down his back. His hair is mussed, falling loose around his ears. He bites at your shoulder, nothing more than a scrape of teeth. He likes you perfect, unmarred.

'Open your legs, ____,’ he orders. You choke back a needy plea and do as he says. Cool air kisses your damp flesh. You can feel his eyes there, eyeing what he’s done to you. You close your own eyes, unable to handle the intensity of that stare. Until: 'Look at me.’ You do. He smiles. A full one this time. 'You’re all ready for me…’

'Yes, Sosuke. Please?’

'When you beg so nicely, how could I refuse?’ he replies, already grasping the backs of your thighs to lift your hips. There’s a brief moment where he slides against you, blunt, hot, and then pressure as he pushes inside. You clench around him, already so eager to be fulfilled. He chuckles, low, pressing the rest of the way in until your hips are flush to his. He deigns to kiss you now, hips torturously still. You want to push back, push up, but you can’t bring yourself to do it.

Without any warning, he cants his hips back, then forces back in. Your feet lift from the mattress, toes curling against the cool air. You squeeze your thighs around his narrow hips. A soft grunt leaves you as he does it again, and again. Slow, hard, deep. It’s like the air is forced out of you with every thrust, a prickling pleasure burning deep. You need to cling to something, so you dig your hands into the sheets. He’s not having any of it.

He jerks hard against you. You gasp. 'Touch me,’ he demands coolly. Your hands fly up and land on his chest. He wraps one of your legs around his waist, spreading you wider for him. You link your arms around his neck. He has ridiculous self-control. He can slide in and out of you for over an hour if he feels like it. You love that, but hope today isn’t one of those days. You’re so close it hurts. He basks in the luxury of your sex wrapped around him, three of your limbs twined around his lean body.

It hits you slow. You’re half-hypnotised by his stare, since he never looks away, and don’t notice until your inner walls ripple around him. Your eyes start to slip closed as the pleasure radiates outward, burning slow paths through your limbs. Your moans are faint, breathy, and your head kicks back on the pillow, exposing a long throat to him. He barely even sighs at the tight, pulsating way you pull at him. Through a haze of pleasure, you only just notice how his hands are clenched in the pillow either side of your head. His dick shoving harder, in and out, only pushes you to a higher plateau.

'Sosuke, ah~’

’____, look at me,’ he says again, voice full of gravel this time. You open your eyes with effort, trying to focus on him above you. He is showing the first signs of strain. A faint wrinkle over his nose, a tightness around his eyes, at the corners of his mouth. His gaze is intense, fixated on you. His thrusts are harder, driving you into the mattress. You’re trapped between soft sheets and lean muscle and there’s nothing to be done but lose yourself.

Your legs are locking up from continued shaking, your sex burned raw by pleasure and friction. You ache all the way through a second climax, dig your fingers into his back. There are white edges on your vision and your throat hurts from moaning. You can’t even say his name any more. It’s just broken syllables and whimpers. 'So-su-ke…So-suke…’

He enjoys the litany. The intimate sound of his name being forced from your lips. No-one else dare call him that, especially not in such a hedonistic, desperate way. He loves driving you to this. From calm, pristine woman to mewling kitten clawing at his back in ecstasy. At last, a quiet grunt forces itself from his throat, and he pushes your legs as wide open as they go for his last few pumps. His lip peels back from his teeth, his frown deepens. A shiver vibrates through his back.

He stays inside you while he catches his breath, eyes half-lidded and almost distant. He leans down on his elbow and traces a kiss over your cheekbone. His words are slow and warm as honey. 'I should let you miss me more often, ____.’


	11. Hitsugaya Toshiro/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: Adult!Toshiro. Check out the latest chapters for a visual.

Getting his robe open without waking him was, you thought, such a feat of stealth that Soifon-taicho really ought to be headhunting you for her division. Not that you would take her up on the offer. Half under the covers, sleep still gritting your eyes, you admired the pale, lanky form of your lover. His chest rose and fell in slow rhythm, still unaware of you feasting on him with your eyes. It was with glee you noticed it. You’d been plotting a trail of kisses down the smooth ridges of his stomach, how to lick at the dip of his hip-bone in the way that made him gasp and twitch, down, down, down. Your path of seduction. As it turned out, you didn’t need to.

Toshiro had a morning glory.

He got them rarely. If there’s one thing he prided himself on, it was his self-control, even in his sleep. A control you regularly tried to frazzle and break. Quite often, you succeeded. Today, his body seemed to be conspiring with you against him. You were fully awake now, your grin a little smug. He’d scold you…when he had the breath to do so. Your gaze drifted up to his face. Fine, sharp features relaxed in sleep, his usual tense frown missing. White hair fell loose over his forehead, sticking up in the back where it rubbed against the pillow. Gorgeous.

Moving slow, so as not to disturb the mattress and wake him, you slid down under the blankets. He grumbled, turning his head to one side. You froze, worried he’d open his eyes. He sighed, rubbed his heel against his opposite calf, grunted, and fell still. False alarm.

You leaned down, brushing your lips over his abdomen. Softly. His skin was warmer than usual from being curled up with you all night, taut and smooth. Ordinarily, it was a little cool. A delicate trail of kisses down his stomach, over the juncture of his hip. His breathing grew shallower, a grumbling murmur leaving his throat. Close to waking. No time to waste. Pushing up onto your elbows, you pressed a kiss to the head of his dick. It twitched. Stifling a husky chuckle, you licked him with the tip of your tongue, curling your fingers around the base of his shaft. Hot breath brushed over him as you dragged the flat of your tongue from base to tip, stroking the cord of muscle on the underside. His hips lifted, feet fidgeting.

His unselfconscious reaction thrilled you. You wrapped your lips around his glans, swirling your tongue in a circular motion. A soft grunt left his mouth and his stomach clenched. You hummed, moving your lips further down his shaft, taking more inside. A light suck.

Above you, his eyes snapped open, hips jerking. The first thing he was aware of was a flush of pleasure and wet heat surrounding his most sensitive organ. You suckled him happily, stroking what you couldn’t fit with in your mouth with your hand. He moaned, then cut himself off. He pulled the blanket up, looking down to see you sprawled on your stomach between his legs, looking like the cat that got the cream. You withdrew, only to bob your head back down, giving him a light squeeze.

His head fell back, the cords standing out in his neck. It took several long seconds before he got his breath back.

’____, w-what are you –doing?’ The end of the sentence became a yelp when you jerked your hand up, sucking hard. ’____, s-stop!’

You pulled away from him with a pop, pouting. ‘But, Toshiro, you were already…’

His pale face flushed. 'I-I was not!’

'You were,’ you insisted, smirking at him. 'So why not let me take care of this, and then you don’t have to worry about it when you get up.’

He frowned down at you, pushed up on his elbows, all disarray and pink cheeks. He sighed, sounding put-out. 'Tch. You have justifications for everything.’ Something flickered in his eyes. 'As you wish, but we’ll take care of it properly.’

Properly? Your question was lost before it even left your lips. He sat up, grabbed your shoulders with negligible ease, and rolled you beneath him. Your surprised squeak got you an amused, indulgent smile before he claimed your mouth with a lazy kiss. If there was ever a time Toshiro Hitsugaya could be said to be lazy, it was first thing in the morning, between the sheets. Your hands went immediately to that shock of white hair, curling your fingers in the thick strands. Your original plan had been thwarted, but his was so much better. 

‘Since you insist on being such a nuisance,’ he muttered between kisses, nibbling at your lower lip, ‘I’ll have to indulge you.’ He always spoke like that. Like he was scolding or chiding you. It was his particular Hitsugaya brand of flirting. 

‘So kind of you,’ you retorted, tilting your head to the side so he could kiss down the side of your neck, voice growing faint, breathy with anticipation. ‘Hitsugaya-taicho is so generous with his time.’ 

He lifted his head and gave you a flat look, his turquoise eyes narrowed with both amusement and irritation. ‘You’re such a pain.’

‘Feh. You love me.’ 

‘Unfortunately,’ he huffed, even as his hand slid down over your stomach, between your thighs. He found you hot, slick, ready. His eyes grew hooded as he lined himself up with you. Your knees rubbed against his hips, encouraging. ‘And you’re impatient.’ That being said, he didn’t hesitate to sink into you, inch by painstaking inch. You inhaled sharply, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he parted the tight muscles. Nerves sparked into life. His composure slipped once he was buried in you to the hilt, a faint groan slipping out. His eyes closed, white eyebrows clenching. 

You were all smug satisfaction muddled in with your pleasure. What better kind of sex than morning sex? Your limbs, when they twined together, were sleepy, heavy, warm. You opened your mouth to say something else sharp and witty, to be cut off by another devouring kiss, muffling your annoyed grunt at the same time. His shoulders shook under your stroking hands, silent laughter. 

‘Be quiet, woman,’ he grumbled, wrapping one of your legs around his waist. You arched up as he thrust into you, sliding your hands down his back, needy and restless. Something curled tight and hot in your stomach, building as he eased in and out of you. He was all languorous ease, ready to take his time teaching you a lesson. He hit all your sweet spots, setting off white-hot starbursts of tingles. Your eyes fluttered shut, fingernails digging into his back,

‘Toshiro...’ His name came out as a plaintive moan. ‘Move a bit faster, damn it.’

‘That’s Hitsugaya-taicho to you.’ 

Your eyes popped open with surprise. He grinned down at you, eyes . That expression on his face was enough to set hatch a thousand butterflies in your stomach. You so rarely got more than a slight smile. You reached up to take his face in both hands and bring him down to your lips. He murmured against your mouth, leaning down on his elbows to cover you more completely. He slipped deeper inside, nudging up against your cervix with roll of his lean hips. You tangled your fingers in his hair, kissing him fiercely. 

Your thighs trembled where they draped around his waist, your feet digging into the small of his back. You couldn’t breathe. You twisted your mouth free, letting loose soft, urgent moans. Toshiro’s head nestled against your shoulder. Sweat slicked skin slid over sweat slicked skin, eyes clenching shut, breath growing hot and laboured. Pleasure twisted tight in your core, stoking the heat at the base of your spine, until it grew so huge, so intense, your body couldn’t contain it any longer. You came with a sharp cry, undulating under him, clinging. Cold reiatsu pressed against your senses, turning everything white and glittering behind your closed eyes. Your release dragged Toshiro headlong over the precipice of his own. He shoved into you, hard, hands clenched in the sheets. His back bowed, his low groan vibrated through his chest as heat flooded your core.

When the waves of rapture finally faded, you sagged back into the pillow, muscles loose with satisfaction, heartbeat gradually slowing. Toshiro flopped right on top of you, weight sinking you into the mattress. 

‘Too heavy,’ you complained, pushing at his shoulder. 

He didn’t budge an inch. ‘Too bad,’ he muttered, nuzzling against your neck. Soft white hair tickled your cheek. Your fingers delved into it, running over his scalp. A surreptitious kiss pressed against your throat. ‘That was all your fault.’

You smiled. ‘Is that supposed to deter me?’


	12. Hirako Shinji/Reader/Muguruma Kensei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cop AU. Sorta.

‘Look, please just let me go,’ you stammered, looking at the two men across from you in the interview room. The hard lines of the plastic chair made your back ache, and the cuffs were tight and cold around your wrists. Your stomach was a sick, twisted mess of nerves and anxiety. Sweat trickled down your back. ‘I didn’t mean to take it. The clerk just forgot to scan it-’

'Be quiet,’ snarled one of the men. Tall, broad, and silver-haired, he leaned against the wall with his arms folded and a fierce scowl set firmly in place. He regarded you with latent disgust and disapproval. Oddly, his appearance contrasted with his demeanor. A ring through his clenched eyebrow, and his shirtsleeves rolled up to display impressive forearms, but he’d walked and talked and barked like someone who took their job way too seriously.

On the other hand, his partner lounged in the chair across from you, wearing a toothy smile and his policeman’s cap tipped jauntily over his short blond bob. He leaned back and propped his feet on the table, one skinny ankle crossed over the other. Through your hysterical tumble of thoughts, you noticed that the hems of his trousers had ridden up, revealing black socks covered in tiny saxophones.

You licked your dry lips, twisting your wrists fruitlessly in the cuffs. 'Please, I’m not a thief. I’m a military officer. I wouldn’t do something like this-’

'Military, huh?’ drawled the blond, pulling down his cap until it shaded his eyes. He became nothing but a wide smile, fulling of straight, white teeth. 'Ya should know better'n stealin’ then, shouldn’t ya?’

'I didn’t,’ you insisted, voice rising. 'You must understand - I can’t have this on my record. You’re gonna end my career over a mistake someone else made?’

'You should be more careful,’ said the standing officer coldly. You glanced at his badge. Muguruma. 'Hirako, just process her already. Why’re you wasting my time like this?’ He turned that scowl on his partner.

Hirako shrugged, pulling off his hat and twirling it around one long forefinger. ’S'not every day we get t'arrest a cute girl.’

You shifted back, noting for the first time the way his brown eyes rested on you. Unwavering, and full of a smug, teasing knowledge of the position you were in. You jerked the handcuffs were they were pinned to the table. You looked at Muguruma. 'Officer, this is a waste of your time. Time you could be using to find real criminals. I’m not a thief.’

He simply scoffed at you. Hirako, on the other hand, leaned back against his chair and brushed his thumb along his lower lip. He smirked at you. 'Ya really wanna go that bad, doll?’

'Yes,’ you insisted, a tiny splinter of hope lodging itself in the back of your mind. 'I’ll do anything as long as I don’t get a record.’

Hirako raised an eyebrow. He leaned his head back on the chair, looking at Muguruma. 'This the interview room with the bust camera?’

Muguruma scowled. 'Yeah. So what?’

Hirako’s head came up, his eyes hooded. 'So,’ he said indolently. 'Anything, huh? As long as you don’t get a record?’

'Anything,’ you said. You didn’t care if you sounded desperate, pleading, weak.

'Pretty spineless for someone in the military,’ snarled Muguruma. 'What are you planning?’ he asked Hirako.

Hirako shrugged. 'Let’s have fun with her before we let her go? That store clerk looked like an idiot anyway. Bet she can’t count to ten without lookin’ at her fingers.’ His eyes slid back to you, and he winked. 'Ya look like ya could do with a little loosenin’ up, dollface. Whaddaya say?’

You shrunk back in alarm, feeling those eyes on your skin like a physical touch. Your eyes flickered unwillingly to Hirako’s long fingers, to Muguruma’s bulging biceps. You fidgeted, heart-rate skipping. Anxiousness had an alchemical reaction with rising anticipation in your stomach, and you felt a deep, interal throb. Is he suggesting…? 'F-fun?’ you asked, drawing both their attention back to you.

Hirako got to his feet in one languorous motion and leaned over the table, his face inches from yours. Warm breath fluttered against your cheek. You turned wide eyes on him and was met with a hooded gaze. 'Fun, sugar. Do I need to spell it out?’

'You can’t be serious.’

'Deadly,’ he purred, tracing a fingertip along your jawline. The touch tingled its way through your jaw and down your neck. When he spoke this close, you could see the flicker of a tongue ring embedded in his mouth. Immediately, your mind jumped to things and places that little adornment could be used for. You swallowed, hooking in a sharp breath. 'Well?’

You closed your eyes to get that Jack O'lantern grin out of your vision for just one second. Just to think straight. Your position, your entire career was in jeopardy because of one stupid mistake. You were in a locked room, cuffed to the table, with no cameras recording what was going on. If you screamed for another police officer, it was your word against this smiling blond demon’s. Muguruma didn’t seem motivated to help you either way. He thought you were a spineless thief. And…Hirako was asking your consent, though it was rank blackmail.

Still, you thought, opening your eyes, it’s been a very long time. To hell with it. Have a little fun and save your career. Maybe he’ll put that tongue to good use… You flexed your hands in their restraints. 'You’ll let me go after?’

'Free as a bird,’ said Hirako, ignoring Muguruma’s demand to know just what the hell he was doing. 'It ain’t like ya aren’t gonna enjoy it too. Deal?’

You took a deep breath to steady yourself. 'Deal.’

Hirako’s resulting grin took up practically his whole face. He tilted his head until his bangs covered his eyes, leaving only a menacing glimmer in the shadows. He cupped your chin in one long-fingered hand and lifted it. His thumb traced the Cupid’s bow of your upper lip, then pressed on your lower. Heat crept up the back of your neck.

'Shinji, what the fuck are you doing?’ snapped Muguruma, glaring at the back of the blond man’s head. 'Get off her. Your joke’s gone too far.’

'I ain’t jokin’,’ said Shinji, 'and she ain’t protestin’.’ He smiled at you. 'Are ya, doll?’

'No,’ you answered, voice a touch breathy. And you think I need loosening up? Hirako seemed pleased with your answer, because he leaned over the table to cover your mouth with his. You stiffened in surprise, though you shouldn’t really have been surprised. His mouth was everything: hot, soft, rich, slow. Not perfunctory in the least. He pulled away, leaving you wide-eyed and panting.

'Ya like that?’ he asked, coming around the table. He was taller than you remembered. Taller than you by a lot. The keys jangled as he pulled them off his belt. You thought he was going to unlock your cuffs and braced yourself for the prickling sensation of returning blood flow. Instead, he simply undid the padlock binding your restraints to the table. He took the chain between your cuffs and tugged until you stood. 'Hop up on the table, doll.’ That easier said than done, but you managed, only to have your hands lifted above your head and a skinny body nudging in between your open thighs. With his hold on your cuffs, he bent you back over the table, stretching your arms above your head, your legs danging useless off the edge. 'Look at you, all cute and helpless~’ he cooed.

'Damn it, Shinji,’ said Muguruma, looking like he was seconds away from giving you both a good cuff round the ear.

'If ya don’t wanna have any fun, Kensei, go take yer break. Or ya can watch.’ There was a click as he re-attached your cuffs to the table, leaving his hands free to smooth down your body. Stretched out, helpless, as he slid open the zipper of your jacket. His hips pressed into yours as he bent over to kiss you, slow and hot. Your eyes slid shut, an eager noise building at the back of your throat. You could already feel him, half hard, pressing against your core. His tongue slid along the seam of your lips, begging entrance, and all the while his hands worked deftly in the minute space between your bodies. Popping buttons, tugging, opening. Your breath hitched as he found bare skin for the first time. He stroked random patterns over your stomach, tracing circles around your navel. You arched as his fingers walked up the struts of your ribs to find the lace of your bra. He stopped invading your mouth for a second to get a look at his find. ’Very cute,’ he complimented, tracing the edge of a cup. 'Matchin’ set?’

'Huh…?’ was your eloquent reply. You were nothing but a haze of flustered feelings and nerve endings. He tsked in good humour, and found the hem of your skirt. The one day I decide to wear a skirt. The loose cotton was harried up your legs by his herding fingers, until it lay useless around your waist.

He chuckled. 'Guess I was right. All fer me?’ He touched a cluster of lace flowers in the centre of your bra, pressing down. 'Shame it has'ta come off.’ He hooked a finger in the garment and tugged, only to grin even wider when he discovered it was a front-hooked one. 'Oh, darlin’, yer really makin’ this too easy fer me.’ He unhooked you and brushed the two halves aside with a flourish. Cool air puckered your nipples into tight peaks, rising and falling rapidly with the pace of your breath. You watched as the pupils in his eyes dilated rapidly, pushing aside the brown. He tweaked one of the little buds, watching your mouth fall open in a silent plea. Growing excitement and the constant pressure of his erection against you made your pulse pound. He rolled your nipple between his calloused fingertips, watching your reaction with keen interest. You arched from the table, and that was too much for him.

’Fuck.’ He leaned down on his elbows and sealed the tip of your breast into the heat of his mouth. Your legs jerked at the sensation, a stuttering moan leaving your lips as the metal of his tongue ring slithered over your flesh. He watched you with a lidded expression, playing it cool even as he suckled at you with obvious greed. You jerked at your restraints, fidgety and restless with ticklish pleasure. He pulled away, leaving your damp flesh to the mercies of the cold. Only to drag his tongue across the twin peak. You moaned, low and pitiful. He withdrew, apparently satisfied.

'Damn, yer so cute.’ He rested a proprietary hand on your bare stomach as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He pulled out a square foil packet and waggled it at you. 'Never say I ain’t prepared, darlin’.’ Dimly, you were relieved he’d thought ahead. You sure as hell hadn’t. His belt buckle rattled as he freed himself. You felt the heat and weight of his cock along your thigh for a second before he put on the rubber. There was no warning. One second he was grinning at you, the next a finger had slid up the inside of your thigh and invaded the cotton of your knickers. You tensed as it slid into your slick folds and inexorably found your clit. He tickled you in the most teasing, bastardish way possible. Bright, fleeting flickers of pleasure followed by a firm press that was almost too much. Again. Again. Barely two minutes passed before you were soaked through. He pulled his finger free, rubbed it against his thumb. 'Naughty little thing, aren’t'cha? Like being tied up, huh?’

He didn’t bother removing your knickers. He pulled the cloth to one side and lined himself up with your vulnerable entrance. Your eyes closed, a thread of nervousness running through the haze of lust. He pressed against you for a second until your slick muscles gave way, allowing him inside, parting you inch by painstaking inch. He paused to appreciate the delicious way you wrapped around him, bent over, hands splayed on the table either side of you. He groaned low in his throat, nudged himself inside you, setting off sparks. Goosebumps broke out down your back, and something coiled tight at the base of your spine.

With a slow retreat until just his tip remained inside you, he buried himself back to the hilt at a glacial, inexorable pace. Just so you could feel every millimetre of him penetrating you. Your toes curled, and your hands clenched into fists. He gave you a shit-eating grin, knowing exactly what his teasing was doing to you. He stroked the side of your face as he carried out his protracted, painstaking fucking. You lay limp on the table, shuddering with each penetration. Your fingers flexed and your wrists strained against the cuffs. A plaintive moan worked out between your lips. He answered you by planting a hand on your hip, bony fingers outspread, and pressing his thumb right down on your clit. You rocked your hips into that touch, the only part of your body that had any freedom to move.

'Shinji, hurry the fuck up,’ said a gruff voice. Your eyes snapped open. Muguruma. Kensei. You’d completely forgotten his presence with the slender incubus inbetween your legs. 'You’re gonna be fucking her until you’re an old man.’

Shinji scoffed, not sounding the least bit strained. 'Ya’ve got no clue how to love a woman, Kensei. Ya can’t just pin her down and bang it out. Besides, look at her. She likes it. Don’t ya, ____-chan?’

As if in answer, your orgasm hit. You tensed and shuddered, literally under his thumb as he worked the digit in firm circles over the bundle of blazing nerves. The strong ripple and surge of your vaginal muscles around his cock was enough to break him out of his teasing mode. He grunted, nose wrinkling, teeth sinking into his lower lip. He grasped your hips and drove into you with enough force to make your breasts bounce. You gasped, followed by a sharp moan. He lifted your leg over his shoulder, pressing himself inside even deeper. The angle twisted your hips until he was burning along a particular sweet spot with every pass. You saw stars, whimpering, when he finished with a final hard jerk of his hips. Your legs were trembling, feet tingling, writhing helplessly…

You cried out with protest when he pulled out, stopping only to give you a taunting kiss. 'Thanks, doll,’ he said, giving your breast a fond squeeze. You pulled against your handcuffs, feeling the tangled threads of your second orgasm beginning to unravel. Fuck it, come back here!

'Ya gonna pull that stick outta yer ass and enjoy yerself, Kensei?’ asked Shinji from somewhere out of your line of sight. You shivered, left half-naked and half-aroused on the table. Your wrists ached from the cuffs, and your sex ached from the tendrils of frustrated pleasure.

'Shut your mouth, Hirako.’ Kensei’s voice was even rougher than before. He came around the table to stare down at you, arms folded across his broad chest. He glared at you, but in your state it only made you hornier. He saw the way your breathing increased, eyes drifting down to the heaving of your breasts. His jaw flexed. 'You like being fucked, little girl?’ he growled at you, grasping your chin and lifting it. 'Fine.’

He held his hand out for the keys. Shinji tossed them his way. You were untied and flipped over, and retied in the blink of an eye. He bent you over the table and flipped up your skirt. Your stomach clenched with fear and lust, terribly excited by the big, fierce man behind you. All you could see was Shinji relaxing back in his chair with his feet up and a satisfied smirk on his face. Kensei jerked your knickers down your legs until they tangled at your knees. He pushed your legs apart, grasping the globes of your buttocks and squeezing roughly. You moaned plaintively, desperate. You’d been so close before Shinji pulled out. If Muguruma could just-

There was a crinkle of foil and the rattle of another belt buckle. A big hand pressed down on the small of your back, pinning you in place. Something large and blunt pressed against your core: the head of his cock. Your knees wobbled. Even being fucked by Shinji didn’t prepare you for the thick girth of Muguruma as he filled you up. You panted, trying to catch your breath as he buried himself inside you to the hilt. There was so much of him you weren’t sure how he was even fitting.

You wriggled your hips in desperation, just that first invasion almost enough to build up your lost orgasm again. Your breasts were pressed flat against the cold table, your wrists cuffed and clamped. You’d never been so helpless. Kensei cursed behind you. 'Could’ve fucking warned me, Shinji,’ he grunted, gripping your thighs to keep you still. 'Quit squirming,’ he barked at you, giving your arse a little slap. Just enough to sting. You spasmed around him, struggling. He cursed again, pulling out, only to barrel back in in one long thrust. You bucked up against him, moaning urgently.

You were so tight around him, it was an effort to shove back into you with each thrust. He took a firm hold of your hips, subjecting you to a hard, slow pounding that had you grunting and panting like a bitch in heat. Pleasure built by leaps and bounds, a fierce burning as he took out his frustration on your body. You yanked at the cuffs, your shrieks echoing off the walls as you came like a freight train.

’Shit,’ he gritted out, holding your thighs hard enough to leave marks, driving into you hard enough to bruise your hips on the edge of the table. You barely noticed, your feet kicking uselessly against the floor. It was too much, too good, too~ Kensei bent over your back, his weight trapping you against the flat surface. You struggled to breathe. He twisted your chin around, snatching a hot, rough kiss. You mewled into his mouth, unable to come down from your high because he just. Kept. Going.

You lost track of time, lost in a plateau of burning, agonising ecstasy. You felt him thicken, twitching inside you and setting off bolts of stinging pleasure. With a rough moan, he thrust into you one last time, pulsing and twitching as he came. You finished around him, tightening down like a clenched fist as every muscle in your body tensed, shuddered and released. Your vision grew cloudy round the edges. Your throat was sore from the animalistic sounds you’d been making, your wrists bruised from your restraints. You shuddered and lay still, trying to catch your breath, awash with lazy heat.

Kensei gave your hips a surprisingly gentle squeeze as he pulled himself out of you. He patted the back of your thigh. 'Good girl,’ he rumbled. You murmured a dazed reply.

I should shoplift more often–

’____-san, wake up!’

Your eyes snapped open at the same time a fist hammered on your door. You jerked upright on your futon, the covers falling to your lap. You looked around, expecting to find a police examination room from the World of Living. Nope. You were in your rooms in the barracks of the fifth division. Your wrists weren’t bruised from handcuffs, you weren’t under arrest.

Heat pulsed between your thighs, a lingering wetness. You flushed. That dream.

’____-san?’

'I’ll be out in a minute,’ you called, your voice high-pitched. Oh, god, you’d had a dream about your taicho. A sex dream. A kinky, dirty dream where he and another taicho fucked you over a table. And today…today you were on loan to the ninth division to help out with paperwork.

You buried your face in your hands. Today was going to be a long, long day.


	13. Ichigo Kurosaki/Reader

Sweat dripped from him in rivers, making a staccato beat on the apartment’s wooden floors. He swiped his sleeve across his face, which was flushed red from the oppressive August heat outside. He rubbed his hand through his hair, worrying half-absently about sunburn and heat-stroke. Could he even get sunburn while he was out of his body? Damn hollows. It was like they’d waited for the hottest, muggiest day of the year to come en masse to Karakura Town. Slipping back into his body felt like sliding into a wetsuit that was on fire. And less fun. 

As he crested the stairs, he heard a sound that was like music to his ears. The faint hiss and splatter of running water. The idea of a shower occurred to him. His clothes were damp, sticking to his overheated skin, and his orange hair hung limp over his forehead, getting in his eyes. He was sticky, sweaty and miserable.

He ripped off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. You’d tell him off later, but it was worth it for the immediate relief. He turned the bathroom door handle and went on in.

Steam filled the room, hung in low drapes from the ceiling. A blurry, naked figure moved around behind the shower door, apparently oblivious to his entrance. Ichigo grinned. He stripped in complete silence, except for the quiet rattle of his belt buckle which he quickly muffled. His brown eyes zeroed in on the sensuous lines of the person behind the shower’s steamy walls.

He opened the door. ‘Hey ___-chan, can I join you?’

You yelped and dropped the bottle of shampoo, nearly slipping over and breaking your neck from the fright. ‘You ass. Don’t do that!’ you blurted, pressing your hand against your chest. Your heart thundered beneath your ribs, still freaking out over his intrusion. Despite the fading adrenaline, your eyes automatically tracked down. Down. Lower. Oh…

‘You can join me,’ you said, leaning against the shower wall, trying to seem nonchalant even when stark naked. Anticipation fluttered in your stomach; the wings of a thousand hell butterflies. ‘As long as you make it up to me for scaring me like that.’

Ichigo’s little brain responded before his big one, stiffening at the tone of your voice. Heat crept up his neck, entirely welcome this time. He stepped into the shower stall, closing the door behind him. With the both of you penned into such a small space, he seemed even more imposing than usual. All broad shoulders and long legs and wide, boyish grin. Your knees wobbled at the sight.

You backed up against the wall, shivering as cool, damp tile touched your skin. Ichigo advanced. He braced his hands on the wall either side of you, caging you in with his body. You tilted your chin up, an instinctive offering for him to kiss your throat. One of your favourite spots. He did, his head nuzzling down into the crook of your neck, lips making contact with wet skin and sending sparks down your spine. He pressed you hard into the wall.

‘Ichigo…’

You felt him grin against your skin at the sound of his name. His hands tracked down your slick sides, pulling you away from the wall. He spun you around until your back hit the glass. Water splattered against his back, running down his face in rivulets, turning his hair dark. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to snatch a rough, gasping kiss.

Long, calloused fingers dipped between your legs, tracing circles around your clit. You lifted your leg and hooked it around his hip, opening yourself to that delicate touch. His fingertips slipped inside your core and found you already drenched.

‘Is that the shower or is that you, ____-chan?’ he asked, voice husky.

’M-me…’ you replied, breathless. His hair tickled your cheek as he kissed your shoulder. 'Ichi, stop teasing me.’ Your voice was more plaintive than you wanted, but god, you wanted…

'Sorry,’ he said, laughing sheepishly. 'Just checking.’

You inhaled sharply as he bent at the knees and lined himself up. A nudge at your entrance, a taut stretch, and a long, gratifying slide. You panted at the invasion, a little blindsided by Ichigo’s girth. Is he even harder than normal? He grabbed the back of your thigh and lifted it high, putting his other hand on the small of your back, holding you still for first thrust.

You gasped his name, your head fell back just in time for him to suck the damp skin of your throat. Your groan vibrated against his lips. Ichigo’s teeth scraped your delicate skin, his hips grinding up into the soft vee of your legs. Wet skin on wet skin, the thick head of him driving into your tight heat: you shuddered and moaned. Your fingernails threatened to break through the skin of Ichigo’s shoulders, you were clutching him so hard. 

Your back squeaked against the glass as the force of his lovemaking shoved you into the shower stall. ‘Ichigo!’ you exclaimed, half laugh, half moan. He grinned at you grabbing both your thighs and pushing you up, up, until you could lock them around his waist. He bounced you up and down the rigid length of his cock, his face buried in your neck.

Burgeoning pleasure made your hands rough, clumsy. You dug them into his hair and made fists, making his scalp prickle. He didn’t even seem to notice, too busy trying to get a mouthful of the breasts bobbing near to his face. He succeeded and your lips opened to let out a sharp little cry as he sucked your nipple in greedy drags.

Ichigo’s pace became frantic, hard, urgent. You were stuck between the unyielding glass of the shower wall and his lean, thrusting hips. Rock and a hard place drifted through your mind on a haze of helpless lust. His hands clenched around the soft cheeks of your ass, hard enough to feel good. He was relentless, untiring at the same hard, deep pace that dragged his cock over your sweet spots again and again and ag-

‘Ichigo~’ 

Your internal walls spasmed around him in long pulls, pulsating as your orgasm radiated out through your body in waves of warm, throbbing tingles. His mouth fixed on yours, muffling your mewls of delight. Limp and warm and aching now, you could only cling to him as he sought his own release in jerky, frantic pumps. He gave a body-length shudder as he hilted himself in you fully for the last time. A rush of heat inside, and he pulled his mouth from yours to bury his face in your neck.

You sighed, draping your arms around his neck. His hair was completely plastered to his head by the water, the tips of his ears bright red as they always were post-sex. He had a tendency to become bashful after his orgasms. 

‘Ichi…’ you purred, sounding like the cat that got the canary. 

He peeled you -literally- away from the wall and set you down on your feet. You winced as he slipped out of you, still sore and tingling. Your thighs trembled as blood rushed back into your extremities. You stepped under the shower spray, pulling your blushing boyfriend with you.

‘That worked out much better than last time,’ you praised, leaning up to kiss him. ‘You didn’t bash my head on the shower head.’ Not quite how I want my brains fucked out.

‘____-chan!’ Ichigo protested, flushing at the memory of that escapade. 

‘Don’t worry,’ you soothed. ‘We’ve got shower sex down. Next, hot tub sex!’


	14. Kensei Muguruma/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains angst.

You bit the inside of your cheek against a sharp twinge in your shoulder as you finished cleaning the kitchen counter. The bruises where the Hollow had hit you were fading. The dislocated shoulder had been dealt with by shinigami from the fourth division, but the muscle damage was deemed too minor to waste healing kido on when they were busy with more serious cases. A week later, and you had the majority of your mobility back, despite the sharp reminders of pain every time you overdid it. Throwing the sponge back into the sink, you rubbed at the back of your neck and cast a gloomy eye around your kitchen.

It was clean, and cramped, like the rest of your quarters. Normally you didn't spend all that much time here, but the last two weeks you'd been retreating to your private room after work more often than not.

He was just so pissy. Everything you did, you somehow did wrong or in a way that earned you a snappy remark or a growl. Normally you could bounce right back with a retort of your own, but lately you'd been running out of steam. You were tired. He was always busy with his duties, which you could respect, but even when he did have the time to see you, it was so grumpy and grudging you felt unwelcome.

After three nights of him coming home and marching straight to bed without even a glance in your direction, you'd given up completely. It made sour, burning knots in your stomach and left you exhausted and empty-feeling, so you avoided him as much as possible. It wasn't difficult. He was in his office, out on the training fields, or face-down in bed ignoring you. You hadn't even bothered telling him about your mission, or your injury. He'd just call you an idiot and go back to work.

You opened your pantry to look for food, and slammed it closed again. Empty. You could go to the market, but after a long day of paperwork, a headache throbbed in your temples. You were a lousy cook anyway. Perhaps you could convince Matsumoto to pick up some tempura and bring it to you if you offered enough sake. Normally you didn't have to worry about this stuff, since Kensei took charge of the kitchen, but-

Nope. Stop that thought right there. Ugh, you'd rather just go hungry and go straight to bed. You abandoned the kitchen completely and trudged across to your futon. Slipping your arm out of your shihakusho without jarring your shoulder took several minutes of frustrated wriggling. The nurses had bandaged it up all nice and tight, but it meant you could hardly move it.

There was a loud knock on the door, like a lightning bolt striking it.

'For fuck's sake,' you snapped, yanking the collar of your sleeping kosode up and tying the sash one-handed into a sloppy bow. It was probably Rangiku, or someone from your division wanting you to fill out more paperwork. You wanted to go to bed and sulk. Was that too much to ask?

You shot a longing look at the cool, inviting sheets of your futon, sighed, and went to answer the door. The second you twisted the latch, the door was jerked out of your hands, sliding along its tracks so hard it rattled. A livid taicho filled the doorway, face thunderous. Your skin prickled in warning at the rising of his reiatsu.

'Why the fuck didn't you tell me?' he snarled, stepping into your room without even removing his sandals. Kensei slammed the door behind himself, shutting you in with himself and his temper. 'I had to hear it from Matsumoto, of all people.'

Confusion clouded your mind for a second, but a sharp bolt of pain in your shoulder served as a strong reminder. You pulled up your collar where it had slipped, hiding the bandages. You felt guilty for half a second, but it sputtered out and died, replaced by weariness. ‘You were busy,’ you said dismissively, refusing to be cowed by the fury on Kensei’s face. ‘It’s fine.’

‘Like hell it is! Show me,’ he demanded, reaching for you. You jerked back out of reach. His expression tightened, his hand falling short and dropping to his side. ‘Hey, c’mon. Show me.’

Your throat tightened. ‘It’s fine. I know you’ve got a lot to do, so-’

‘Don’t give me that shit,’ he said, voice rough but hands gentle as he took your uninjured arm and pulled you closer. You stood, stiff and sullen as he worked your collar down to get a proper look at the extent of the damage. ‘Fucking hell, ____.’ 

You waited for the inevitable ‘idiot’ comment, but it didn’t come. You risked a quick glance at his face, only to see him scowling down at your arm. He moved your arm, sending pain shooting down the limb. You winced. He cursed under his breath and pulled open your obi without hesitation, pushing it off your shoulders. He barely seemed to notice that you were naked, too busy poking at the bandages around your bicep. 

‘You can’t keep shit like this from me,’ he scolded. ‘Does it hurt?’

You were torn between wanting to push him away and tell him he could go back to ignoring you, or burrowing into his arms for the comfort you’d been missing. Instead you just stared at him, blank-faced. He looked at you for long minute, then took your chin in his hand.

‘Oi. I don’t care how busy I am. You tell me this kind of thing, you understand?’

His gruff gentility hurt almost more than being ignored had. Sometimes you didn’t know whether you were coming or going with him, and it made your head ache. You pulled your robe back up, avoiding his eyes. ‘I’ll be fine.’ You slid out of his grasp and made for the kitchen. You needed a drink.

‘____. Hey.’ A growl of frustration. He followed behind you, making an obvious effort to rein in his temper. He slammed closed the cupboard you’d just opened, thwarting your attempt to get to the sake. ‘Stop ignoring me.’

You snorted. ‘Feels great, doesn’t it?’

He’d had enough. He grabbed your good arm, spun you around and crowded you back against the kitchen counter. As much as you hated to admit it, you were no physical match for him. He planted his hands on the counter, blocking you in, and leaned down until his glowering face was inches from yours. ‘I don’t care how pissed you are at me,’ he said in a low, dangerous voice. ‘I don’t wanna hear from someone else that you’re hurt. Have you even been eating properly?’

You glared at him, feeling half on the verge of tears, half like smacking him. He went from ignoring you and treating you like an unwelcome guest to crowding you and touching you softly and nagging you. ‘You asshole,’ you said thickly, taking a handful of his hair and yanking his mouth down to yours.

The kiss was hard and unforgiving. You demanded the comfort you’d been wanting, and punished him for being such a jerk lately. After a few frozen seconds, he wrapped his large hands around your waist and hoisted you up onto the counter. He kissed you back with care, a silent apology you’d never get from him verbally. You didn’t want care. It made your chest ache. You pulled at his hair, at his shihakusho, ignoring the sharp, hot pain in your shoulder. 

‘Be careful,’ he ordered, tilting your head to the side and kissing your throat. ‘You pull that arm and we’re not doing this.’ You kicked the back of his thigh in irritation. He ignored that in favour of working your robe open again and groping underneath. He had you limp and restless in his arms in the span of mere minutes, dragging his calloused fingers against your bare skin and biting gently at your neck. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, working at his hakama with your good hand, only to be stymied when he swept you off the counter altogether and made for your futon. He put you down carefully, following, and lying on his elbows to keep his considerable weight off you. You used the gap to yank his clothes askew. He let you, mostly invested in claiming your mouth with kiss after kiss, cradling the back of your head in his hand, keeping you where he wanted.

He sucked air between his teeth when you found what you were looking for. His jaw dropped, a grunt working free, as he pushed into your grasp. A broad fingertip pushed between your folds, checking you were ready for him, sliding across your clit in taunting circles. Making you wetter. You arched into that touch, your head kicking back. He cursed at the sight of you like that, pressing his thumb hard against you, making you jerk. ‘Tell me if it hurts at all,’ he demanded. He lined himself up and pressed inside.

You grimaced at the sheer girth of the member he was working into you, hiding the expression by turning your head, in case he mistook it and stopped. He caught your chin and turned your face back. ‘Hey, don’t look away,’ he said, frowning. His back tensed as his hips finally lie flush with yours, feeling the faint tremble and spasm of your inner walls. 

‘You-’ 

Whatever epithet you’d been about to throw at him was lost when he slanted his mouth over yours, tongue slipping in to glide against yours. Heat pulsed through you as he drew back his hips and pushed forward again, deep and unrelenting. Between the way he dominated your mouth and the way he moved in you, over you, you could hardly breathe. Your shoulder forgotten, you draped your arms around his neck, needing him lower. You needed to feel swept up in him again.

You twisted your mouth free to gasp for air, rocking your hips up into his to receive him, to demand more. He refused to give it, keeping that steady inexorable pace that worked you up into a needy, twitching mess. You scored your nails against his broad back, biting at your bottom lip to muffle sounds of burgeoning pleasure. He watched you intently, seeming almost unaffected by what he was doing to you. Only the way his hands dug into the futon either side of your head gave him away.

You shuddered and arched as he dragged over a spot deep inside that unleashed tingles. He gave you a roguish smirk and did it again. Again. Again. He laid one forearm above your head and braced himself on it, caging you in, and reached down. Suspicion filtered through the haze of pleasure. You narrowed your eyes, only for them to snap wide open. He stroked your clit with two hard fingers. A syncopated motion that had you bucking against him. And damn him to hell, he hit that sweet spot again with every thrust. 

Orgasm rushed through your body, rough waves of tingling, prickling pleasure. You moaned, grabbing his shoulders and squeezing hard enough to bruise. The come-down was difficult. Your nerves were strung out, and he was just still going. He left off the teasing to press his hips into yours. Hard. Harder. His head dropped, a harsh moan grated the back of his throat. 

He moved like a well-oiled machine, grinding your hips into the futon. All the feeling left your legs, congregating in your core. Your muscles were watery, your head heavy when you lifted it to bite at his neck.

He groaned your name, driving into you with more force, almost desperation. You felt his release building: the uninhibited, sloppy thrusts and how his arms trembled with effort. 

‘Fuck.’ 

He buried his face against your neck, losing himself in the heat of your body. You came again, legs shaking, your core pulsating around him in weak contrast to his powerful thrusts. A choked grunt and a rush of wet heat, and he was lying over you, warm and extremely heavy but somehow still mindful of your shoulder. 

You closed your eyes as your body wound down. Your fingers played over his back. A long sigh.

‘You’re still a jerk.’

Kensei stiffened, then muttered under his breath. He turned his head to kiss the side of your face. ‘Tch.’


	15. Kyoraku Shunsui/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shunsui gets a birthday surprise.

Don’t let him drink too much, you'd warned Jushiro at your last secret meeting, planning Shunsui’s birthday celebrations. The centuries had given Shunsui a high tolerance for his beloved sake, but you knew Rangiku was there, refilling his cup every time it ran dry. The sotaicho’s birthday was a big thing to celebrate, after all. You checked the time, smiled to yourself, and scattered a few more rose petals on the bed. The futon was pretty much drowned in them, so what could a few more hurt?

Keep him distracted and bring him home at midnight. Jushiro didn’t ask too many questions about your cryptic instructions. He, quite correctly, assumed you wanted a private celebration with your lover. Shunsui’s face had been so disappointed when you told him you wouldn’t be able to come out for his birthday drinks that you’d almost felt guilty. He’d looked utterly crestfallen and spent the rest of the day sulking.

You lit the last candle, shielding it with your palm until the flame steadied. Hopefully, this would make up for that little white lie. The bedroom was a romantic idealist’s paradise. Rose petals, enough candles to make a fireman nervous, and a tray with a bottle of the finest sake you could get your hands on. The piece-de-resistance was your outfit. You were quite proud of yourself for thinking it up. His straw hat and flowered haori, stolen from his wardrobe that morning before he woke up...and nothing else.

The front door rattled as it opened. You froze, then clambered onto the bed and arranged yourself in a comfortable, lazy sprawl you’d seen him do a thousand times. You tipped the hat down over your eyes and folded your arms behind your head.

‘Come in and have a drink with me, ‘shiro~’

‘Sorry, Shun, I don’t feel up to it.’ Jushiro’s voice in the hall was weary, apologetic. A convenient lie. ‘Tomorrow.’

‘Then why’d I have to come home so early?’ Shunsui grumbled. ‘You dragged me away before the fun even started.’

‘Go and get some rest, old man.’

'Says a man who is six months older?'

There was further grumbling from the sotaicho before Jushiro could take his leave. You were grinning now, a nervous, flustered excitement in your belly. You heard sandals being kicked off and heavy footsteps creaking down the hall. All you could see was the inside of the straw hat, backlit by candlelight, but it was obvious when he came to the bedroom door. A sharp intake of breath.

‘Happy birthday, sotaicho~’ You tipped back the hat to give him your cockiest grin, crossing one leg languorously over the other. You raised an eyebrow. ‘Did you have fun?’

Shunsui was, for the moment, speechless. He looked as if all his birthdays had rolled into this one. His eyes slid down your body, half covered in his kimono, glazed by candlelight, then darted around the room. He leaned against the open door as though it could support him when all the blood rushed south. ‘____-chan...’ he said, his voice dropping an octave. He stroked his chin, grey eyes darkening.

Heat curled inside you at that expression. You could almost see him plotting behind his eyes: all the things he was going to do to your body, all the ways he was going to punish and reward you for your little deception. You couldn’t wait. Sitting up, you reached for a cup and the bottle of sake. You poured with careful deliberation, feeling his eyes on you, his heavy gaze like a physical touch. Casually, you held out the cup. ‘Care to join me for a drink?’ The kimono slipped off one shoulder.

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. A slow, lazy grin spread across his face. He swayed away from the door, whether drunk or dizzy with lust, it didn’t matter. He shrugged off his white haori, letting it puddle on the floor. 'Who am I to deny an invitation like that?'

The bed dipped as he crawled onto it, making a path through the rose petals. His grin only widened the closer he got, his eyes hooded and dark. Instead of taking the cup, he took your hand and lifted the ceramic dish to his mouth, gaze still locked on you. A low hum of appreciation thrummed through his chest.

'My favourite.'

Your smile was sultry, satisfaction glinting in your eyes. He finished the sake, taking it from your fingers but not letting go of your hand. He put the cup down and lured you closer. Hands burrowed beneath your stolen kimono to stroke your curves. The hat was knocked off your head and neither of you noticed. Him, too busy moving sloppy kisses along your jaw and digging his fingers into your supple flesh, you too busy enjoying it. Rose petals scattered carelessly as he pulled you closer, sliding the kimono down your shoulders, where it pooled to hang in the crooks of your elbows. In the candlelight his eyes were dark, but you could see them flash as he lowered his head to bite playfully at your shoulder. You snorted. He chuckled against your skin, lifting your hair aside to expose more of your neck. He'd never been able to resist it, and you'd never been able to resist what he did to it.

He sucked at the sensitive skin where your neck met your shoulder, simultaneously giving your hips a squeeze that started you aching. You fumbled in his hair to remove his precious pins, discarding them safely off the edge of the bed. His hair slipped out of its tie and spilled over his shoulders. He hardly noticed, too busy with his hands on every inch of you. A rough, broad palm pressed against your breast, hiding your stiff nipple in its centre. He withdrew his hand until the little bud was pinched between his fingertips, and tugged.

'Shun-' you mumbled, before he cut you off with his mouth on yours. You tasted sake as his tongue slipped into your mouth. Your fingers knotted into his long wavy hair. He teased your breasts with feather-light touches and playful pinches. Tingles radiated through you, making you want to squirm. The kiss broke a moment, a fraction of space between your mouths. 'Shunsui, stop teasing me,' you chastised.

'Maa, let me enjoy my birthday present,' he complained. Even so, one of his hands moved down and two fingers crept between your legs. He smiled wide as he found you ripe as a split peach. 'Guess I'm not the only one enjoying it?' he said as he rubbed his broad fingertips over your clit. You gave him a narrow look, even as your hips bucked into his touch. He knew just where to touch you, caress you, always had done.

'This isn't a present you only get to enjoy once,' you reminded him, tugging at his hair as he sank two long fingers into you. It wasn't difficult. You'd been anticipating him all day long.

'Good point,' he said against your silken skin, fingers slipping out of you after three short, ecstatic intrusions. You were disappointed for a second, until he opened his shihakusho, signalling better yet to come. The warm skin of his chest was covered in a smattering of dark hair, narrowing into a dark happy trail that led under the sash of his hakama. His grin was lopsided and lazy as your fingers followed that path. He you a slow wink. 'I'm in your hands, honey.'

'Literally,' you observed with dry humour, giving him a delicate squeeze. Shunsui draped himself back on his elbows, pushing his cock harder into your soft palm. You stroked the stiff member, tantalising a fingertip around the head. He scraped his teeth over his full lower lip, followed by a sly swipe of his tongue. His gaze burned you. You did it again, fighting down a grin. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he clenched his teeth.

'I had to go all day without my favourite hat,' he said, voice faltering as you traced the cord of muscle along the underside of his cock. 'And my kimono. And you conspired with my best friend against me.' He pushed out his lower lip in order to look petulant. The effect was spoiled by the heat in his eyes.

'Poor sotaicho,' you said, moving to straddle his hips. His hands skimmed up your sides in silent worship. 'I'll make it up to you.' You punctuated that statement by lowering yourself straight onto his cock. You sank down, impaling yourself with your hands braced on his stomach, fingernails digging sharp into his abs. Your walls stretched deliciously as you filled yourself with him, taking all of him inside. He hooked his fingers into the backs of your knees and shuffled you forward an inch, drawing you higher up his hips. The move shifted him inside you, lodging himself deeper.

The pair of you took a moment to fully appreciate the situation, smirking at each other like conspiring thieves. Shunsui reached out and pulled the floral kimono back up your shoulders, draping it so that it left your breasts on display, along with the long line of your stomach and the place where your body joined his so tight. He picked up the straw had and perched it back on your head. 'Perfect,' he declared.

Your hips rose and fell in a graceful motion like a rolling wave, slick and sliding. You closed your eyes to fully embrace the sensation. The anticipation of waiting for him to get home made the conclusion all the more exhilirating. Each plunge down on him, each gyration of your hips stirred a primal heat within your body. Your blood rushed beneath your skin, flushing your face and neck and breasts.

A low purring made you look at Shunsui. Sprawled easily on the pillow, one arm supporting his head, he was watching you with hooded eyes. He wasn't nearly as drunk as he'd made it seem and he was focused. Anxious anticipation flooded you with adrenaline, caused a rush of goosebumps from neck to knee. He took that hand from behind his head and grasped your hips, fingertips spanning your back, thumbs pressing into the hollows of your hips. He measured the undulations of your body and helped you rise higher, sink harder.

You lost. A whimper escaped your lips. You planted a hand on his chest, between his large pectorals. 'Mm, Shunsui.'

He grinned. He loved nothing more than hearing his name from your lips in the strain and storm of pleasure. You bounced, panting as you began to burn. Waves of tingles, so intense they lit up your nerves like stars, making constellations, star systems, galaxies of ecstasy. The more it overwhelmed you, the closer you bent to your supine lover, needing something solid to brace yourself against. Too bad. He flicked the hat up, caught your chin and pulled your mouth down to his.

Sake, tongue, salt and heat. He pulled his feet in, his knees bending as he braced himself against the futon and bucked up into you. Your eyes flew open in the midst of his toe-curling kiss. He moved in a circular motion, grinding up into the damp vee of your thighs. Your moans and mumbles were stolen straight from your lips, his tongue darting in to find the source. A hard pulse of pleasure made you rip your mouth from his, pushing away, pushing up. You needed to breathe, to pause. Anything, because the playful expression on his face was mostly gone, replaced by sheer hedonistic intent.

You let your head fall back, grateful for the hands that held you in place as he took you from beneath.

He shifted under you. Skin met hot skin. Dark waves of hair fell against your face and breasts as his hands delved under the kimono. He'd sat up, now towering over you with you still in his lap, joined. Grateful, you leaned against him, dropping your head to his shoulder. He chuckled low in his throat, lifting you up and down his cock with an easy strength belied by his usual lazy demeanour.

You leaned back in his hold to drag his mouth to you, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him there. You rode him hard, chasing a growing, burning heat that built at the base of your spine. He hummed his approval against your lips, taking a gentle fistful of hair to angle you just right. Your thighs were trembling, your breath coming in short gasps. That heat turned supernova and exploded, singeing your nerves, burning them out. You keened in pleasure, rocking against him as your muscles turned to jelly.

Shunsui gave a long, low groan as you pulsated around him, internal muscles pulling at him. He grasped the backs of your thighs and lifted you up. Once, twice, a third time. A strained gasp and he twitched hard inside you, setting off a last twinge of stinging pleasure.

After, unwinding in the cool bedroom air, he draped you across his chest like a blanket, running his fingers over your bare back. The kimono had been stripped from you and tossed off the bed at some point. You shivered as his touch ghosted down your spine.

'Did you like your present?' you asked dreamily.

He picked off a rose petal that was stuck to your back, flicked it away with an amused chuckle. 'The best I've ever had.'


	16. Nnoitra Gilga/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Dom/Sub play, Master/Pet sort-of play, Biting. I don't know if I got this one right. Nnoitra is tricky.

Pale red water sluiced down your skin, swirling in the drain before it sank out of sight. The hot spray thundered against your back, working out a whole tangle of aching muscles. You groaned and lifted your arms over your head in a long, cat-like stretch. You turned your back to the shower-head, eyes closed, letting it hiss through your hair, rinsing out the sweet-smelling shampoo.

Your head tilted back, as hot water fizzled through your now-clean hair. You opened your eyes, hand already reaching out for the conditioner-

Nnoitra leered down at you from the shower doorway.

You almost screamed. But you knew better.

_'Screamin’ means you gotta wait longer, pet.'_

That lecherous blade of a grin stretching across his face meant one thing. You'd done something wrong, and you were going to be punished. Your pulse jumped in anticipation. 'Nnoitra-sama,' you said, pretending that your skin hadn't just goosebumped all the way to your toes, even in the shower's heat.

'Whose blood is that?' he drawled, his narrow eye tracking down your body. A few red rivulets still coursed over your damp skin; the last traces of a brutal sparring session. His gaze had the stamp of ownership.

'A fraccion, Nnoitra-sama' you said, trying to keep your voice even. You needed to rinse the last suds from your hair, but you didn't dare move. His eye gleamed. 'He didn't know when to stop running his mouth.' The only person who got to call you 'pet', and 'whore', was Nnoitra. You weren't going to take it from anyone else. That jumped up little prick in the hallway hadn't earned the right to even look at you, let alone start spewing insults. If he'd done it in front of Nnoitra, he probably would've lost _all_ his limbs.

'Did you punish him?' Nnoitra asked, his eye fixated on where two streams of water converged between your breasts.

'Now he only has one hand to hold his puny cock at night,' you said. Nnoitra enjoyed it when you spoke crudely, and even more when you insulted others. It made dominating you, wringing praise from you, all the more satisfying.

'Good girl...' he said, reaching out to stroke a long finger down your throat and over the curve of your left breast. Without warning, he pinched your nipple, hard. You gasped at the sudden stab of pleasure-pain. 'But, who told you you could take a shower without me?'

Shit. He rolled the crushed bud between his fingertips, eye hooded, watching the realisation dawn on you, along with a mild wince. You'd needed a shower after the fight, and he'd been nowhere in sight. It was impossible. He changed the rules every day, anyway. He tugged on your breast; you bit your lip.

'Sorry, Nnoitra-sama,' you breathed.

'That's not good enough, pet. Nah, I think I'm gonna have to punish you,' he said with false regret. He let go of you, only to grab you around the waist and sling you over his high, hard shoulder. It knocked the wind out of you. You gasped in a breath as he headed for the bedroom door. Hard, rough fingers slipped between your thighs, discovering the beginning of a slick, sticky wetness that had nothing to with the shower. He cackled. 'You little slut.'

Two long fingers sank inside you without preamble, stretching you open. Your back stiffened, one leg flailing in the open air. 'N-Nnoitra-sama!'

'What?' he asked carelessly, crossing his fingers inside you and wiggling them. You made a guttural noise. You were already panting, anticipating. He yanked his fingers out of you and threw you down on the bed. You bounced once, only to find his knee on your chest. Just enough weight to pin you down and restrict your breathing.

'You don't get to protest. _You_ fucked up, not me,' he said, leering down at you. His hair slithered against your cheek as he leaned down further, his voice dropped into a low hiss. He rubbed his fingertips, coated in your fluids, together. He stuck the tip of his finger between his lips, giving it a taste. ‘This better be for me, pet. If you’re wet for that piss-ant you were fightin’ with...’

‘It’s all for you,’ you said, your voice edging into a purr, ‘Nnoitra-sama.’

His lips peeled back into a wide leer. He never cared how good you were, or what reassurances you gave. Your lover, if you could call him that, didn’t do rewards. He did punishments in varying levels of severity.

His tongue flicked along the rest of his fingers, lapping up the last, lingering flavour. The number ‘5' flashed at you like a warning. ‘You’re still gettin’ punished.’

His voice rasped on that last word and you were full of a restless, squirming anticipation. You could lie there and take it and maybe get a reward, or you could disobey and see a dark light flash in his eye and get dominated all the harder for your resistance. Of its own volition, your tongue traced your lower lip. His gaze followed.

Grabbing both thighs, he spread your legs as wide as they would go, exposing you to cold air. 'You're a fuckin' mess already,' he said in approval. Without warning, he ducked down and dragged his long tongue right over your centre. Your back arched at the sudden rush of sensation and pleasure, your mouth opening to ask for more, but he was already gone. He crowed with laughter. 'You desperate little slut. You ain't gettin' any more.'

You strained upward in frustration. He was such a bitch.

'In fact, you can give _me_ some.'

There was a short, sharp tug at your hair. You scurried into a kneeling position, pulled up by the hand in your hair. Nnoitra gripped your chin and tilted it back, bending to give you a hard, possessive kiss. His narrow lips parted, and your mouth was full of hot, dexterous tongue. You moaned, the sound muffled. He ravaged your mouth until you were lightheaded, then pulled away. You gasped for breath.

His hand on the top of your head pushed down. You knew what to do. Your hands fumbled on his sash until his fingers tightened in your hair. The tiny stab of pain served to clear your mind. You jerked his hakama open, freeing the intimidating length of his cock, already hard as stone from tormenting you.

You looked up through your lashes. His eye narrowed, his grin widened. 'You know what to do,' he drawled.

His skin was almost tasteless. It was strange, that someone who fought so much didn't even taste of sweat. It was difficult to fit him in your mouth, but you were well practiced. You dipped your tongue into his slit. On cue, he hissed, tugging at your hair. Encouragement. You sucked harder, bobbing your head down so he nudged at the back of your throat. Surreptitiously, you folded your thumb into your fist to help suppress that pesky gag reflex.

He loosened his grip a little. You used your new freedom to bob up and down his cock, lashing your tongue along the underside, sucking hard at the head every time you reached the top.

'You're so fuckin' good at that, pet,' he said magnanimously, cupping the back of your head and forcing you halfway down. You spluttered, gagging. He seemed to enjoy that all the more, letting you go only when you threatened to pass out for lack of air. 'Harder now.'

You sucked harder. You moved faster. Your tongue moved so skillfully a gymnast would've been jealous. Nnoitra grabbed your head in both hands, panting, excited. He grunted when you scraped your teeth over the sensitive head, and you tasted the first hint of bitter come. He jerked you off of his dick, looking annoyed and pleased, all at once.

'Greedy bitch, aren't you?'

' _Yes_ , Nnoitra-sama,' you agreed, giving him a leer in return.

He laughed, sharp and mocking, and shoved you down on your back. Did you really think you could out-do him? _He_ was in control. He was _always_ in control. And better that you never forget it. He loomed over you, fist wrapped around the base of his dick. There was only one place that was going, and you _needed_ it now. The heady mix of victory and submission was like fire in your veins, burning for release.

You groaned as he lined himself up and pressed inside. Your lower lip bled where you bit it. He long and though it didn't look it, thick. He buried himself inside in a single, relentless stroke. You felt the head of him nudge up against your cervix. A grunt left your lips, your forehead crumpled in discomfort.

'Fuckin' wimp,' he muttered at you, but his hips retracted a fraction. 'Will that quit your bitchin'?'

You risked a grin. He grasped your face in one big hand, squishing your cheeks together. 'Who're you smilin' at?' he demanded.

'You.'

He snorted and let your head go, grabbing your thighs in both hands. His long, hard fingers sank deep into your soft flesh, set to leave shapely bruises that he'd admire later. Holding you in place for his pistoning hips. His pace was hard and unforgiving. Fire kindled in your core, rapidly stoked into an inferno by the relentless fucking. He stared down at you the entire time, narrow eye fixed on your face. Whimpers and grunts tripped off your lips, your legs straining against his hold.

He lifted your hips an inch, and rasped against a small node of nerves that lit up like a firework. You gripped the sheets under your head, a high whine echoing through the chamber. Your back arched from the bed until your spine creaked, your breasts jiggling with each brutal thrust. It was hard to breath, harder to think. He didn't touch you, didn't caress you. He barely saw to your pleasure. You were his, not the other way around. But your nerves were on fire, your skin was slicked with sweat, your vocal chords hurt with suppressed shrieks.

You gave in, opening your mouth. A torrent of moans and grunts and gasps filled the air. His satisfied grin gleamed. His tongue traced the corner of your jaw, tasting the salt of mingled sweat and overwhelmed tears. His voice hissed into your ear. 'Who do you like fuckin' you, pet?'

You lacked the breath to answer. Your entire body locked up, your muscles tightened and spasmed. He pressed his thumb into your windpipe. Black spots danced on the edge of your blurred vision.

'YOU,' you choked.

He took his hand away, covering your mouth in a greedy, possessive kiss instead. He offered a brief concession to your pleasure and flicked his fingernail against your clit. That last bolt of sensation ripped you to shreds. You mewled against his mouth, wavy lines dancing across the backs of your closed eyes. Your inner muscles clenched, closing down around him like a tightened fist.

His teeth sank into your neck, muffling his sharp grunt. You barely felt it. Just the warm trickle of blood down your shoulder. His length twitched a fraction, too tightly lodged to move much. You could feel the release ripple through his body, and surge through him in a rush of wet heat. His teeth disengaged from your neck.

Nnoitra slid out. He sat up, wiping his bloody lips on the back of his hand. His eye fell on your core. Taking your knees, he pushed them apart, spreading you in full lewd view. 'Looks like you need another shower, my little pet.'


	17. Ukitake Jushiro/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of his good days, plus a mischievous s/o, leads to this.

The low, amused chuckle echoed down the hallway. Hair stirred on the back of your neck. A delightful frisson rippled down your spine. Pressing yourself back into the small alcove between the kitchen door and the linen closet, you covered your mouth to stifle a laugh. Floorboards creaked as he came around the corner. He paused in the middle of the hall, just a few feet from you.

'____-chan, what are you doing?'

Silence. Your mouth stretched into a wide grin against your palm. Repressed giggles formed a bubble in your chest that threatened to burst. It was a ridiculous game. You waited until he came home, kissed him soundly as soon as he walked in the door, and fled.

A huff. 'My love, I can feel your spiritual pressure. Why are you hiding by the linen closet?'

You opened your mouth in outrage. The cheat. He always used his damn superior reishi-sense to find you. Two steps closer. He was almost at your hiding place.

You stepped out to flee toward the sitting room. There was a flurry of movement and your back nudged up against a wall. Your wrists were trapped in two gentle hands and a pair of laughing brown eyes gazed down at you from a few inches away.

Jushiro smiled. 'It seems I have found you, dear.'

'It's not fair,' you protested, giving him a stern look. Your hands slipped easily out of his hold and you draped your arms around his neck. 'You always win.'

He lifted a dark eyebrow, amused. 'It's you who insists on making me chase you through the house. I assume you wish to be caught.'

You sighed. 'Don't read me so easily.'

He nodded solemnly. 'I will try to find you more obscure.' His hands settled on your waist, moving your hips closer to his. 'But I _have_ caught you.'

He ducked his head, eyelids lowering. Your chin lifted, and lips met halfway. You melted at the delicate touch, moving forward and up onto the balls of your feet. He made a noise in the back of his throat and curled his fingers round the back of your neck. He kissed you with slow care, lips moulding against yours in a dozen delicious ways. If there was one thing Jushiro could do, it was turn a simple kiss into a knee-trembling work of sensory art.

When he at last pulled away, it took you a moment to open your eyes and regain your balance. Your flushed lips curved in a dreamy smile. Your blood had turned to honey and your muscles to marshmallow.

'It's so worth losing,' you purred, leaning forward to nuzzle your nose against his. He set his feet a little wider apart to support your weight as you leaned on him. You tugged on the lock of hair that fell forward over his shoulder, encouraging him to come back for more. 'Again?'

He acquiesced with a grin, humming in pleasure as you curled your fingers in his hair up to your wrists, stroking and tousling. You felt the shiver run through him. 'What's gotten into you today, my love...mmf...'

You didn't let him finish his hushed sentence, keeping his mouth pressed to yours, drugging yourself with him until you could hardly feel your feet. Dimly, you noticed how his hands grasped you tighter, how his kisses grew in urgency. Only when he groaned against your lips did you realise that you were essentially seducing him in the hallway. You broke away, panting.

You disentangled your hands from his hair and steadied yourself against his shoulders, intending to catch your breath. But when you looked up and saw the flicker of heat in his eyes, you realised that you didn't want to catch your breath, not in the least. You took his hand from your waist, clasped it, and marched straight for the bedroom.

'____-chan?' he asked. You were gratified to hear the breathless edge to his voice.

'Dinner can wait. Paperwork can wait,' you said, turning in the centre of your shared bedroom and sliding your arms around his waist. ' _I_ cannot.'

He reached up and stroked your hair back behind your ear, exposing the long line of your neck. Warm breath fluttered against the sensitive skin a second before his lips pressed there. You sighed as kisses trailed down your neck, ending in a light suck at the delicate skin above your collarbones. You wavered on your feet, lustful and lightheaded. You caught his hands and placed them on your obi, giving it a demonstrative tug. _Undress me._

There was no demurral, no hesitation. Today was one of his good days, and he intended to make to most of it, and the most of you. Deft hands loosened your obi and opened your kimono. It hung open from your shoulders, leaving you in nothing but your breast-wrap and hakama. He trailed his fingers down your stomach, hooking into your hakama-ties. A soft, insistent tug and they came free. The garment slithered down your legs to pool at your feet in a puddle of crushed black pleats. He gave you a sweet, sly smile and slid your open robe down your arms. It joined its partner with a muted thump.

Jushiro's mouth covered yours. His kiss had a little bite to it this time. Well, a nibble. You scrabbled at his clothes as he urged you back, back toward the bed. The edge hit the back of your knees and you folded down into the engulfing softness of the mattress. You broke the kiss and scooted back until you were level with the pillows. He followed, but stopped halfway.

Before you could ask what he was up to, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to your bare stomach. Your abdomen tensed, and giggles bubbled up as he kissed his way up, all the way to your mouth. He settled over you on his elbows, his hips resting in the cradle of your pelvis, pressing his obvious arousal against your growing heat.

'I think maybe I'm winning,' you breathed, gasping when he rocked his hips into you. 'O-or maybe it's a tie...'

He chuckled but didn't answer, too busy covering your face in feather-light kisses. They grew firmer and firmer until he found your mouth again, tilted his head, and slipped his tongue between your lips. You clutched at the back of his haori -he hadn't even undressed?- and kissed back with abandon. That earlier warmth grew into something more intense. You were hollow and aching, desperate to be satisfied. Fitting your hands between your bodies was difficult, you were twined together so tight. His narrow obi unravelled beneath your squirrelling fingers. You jerked open his kimono, desperate for hot, firm flesh under your palms. He groaned in appreciation when you touched him, sliding around to run your hands up his back.

He left your mouth, half reluctant, and got at your underclothes. Your breast-wrap was removed faster than you yourself could've done it. The cool air tightened your nipples. He palmed your breasts, giving them both a soft squeeze, a soothing massage after the compression, your nipples hard against his palms.

'Ju...' you whined, wanting more. A flicker of naked desire crossed his face as he shifted down, giving himself access to the twin prizes. He covered the tip of one in the warm, wet heat of his mouth. You gasped, cupping the back of his head to keep him there. His eyes strayed up to yours, deep and dark and full of heat. That hollowness grew, followed by a quick pulse of pleasure when he sucked. 'Jushiro...'

He hummed in reply; your back arched as the vibration travelled straight through you. You wrapped your leg around him, wanton and needy. He teased you, nibbling, sucking, licking. His long, loose hair shushed across your skin, which grew more feverish by the second. He released you, to your relief, only to apply the same treatment to your other breast. You wriggled, restless and halfway to laughter with frustration.

'S-stop it,' you chided, tugging at his hair. 'Tease.'

He lifted his head. His voice was decidedly husky, his gaze intent. 'Come now, my love, I was barely started...' Those words held the weight of a promise. Of an entire evening spent under his mouth and hands, reduced to whimpering and moaning for him while he took you lovingly apart. _And they call you a gentleman_ , you thought in giddy delirium. He _was_ , but certainly not above loving you to within an inch of your life. ' _Hmm_?' he asked, trailing his lips along your jaw.

Your eyes fluttered shut. No. No, you needed him now. 'I need you now, love,' you insisted, tugging at the collar of his white haori.

He chuckled low against your ear. 'As you wish.'

He made short work of your underwear, skimming them off your legs and sending them to wherever the rest of your clothes had gone. You arched up under him, pressing yourself against him in enticement. He made to sit up and shrug off his haori, but you caught his sleeves. 'Leave it on?'

Having Jushiro make love to you was one thing. Being utterly seduced by _Ukitake-taicho_ was quite another, and it left you breathless. He gave you a considering look, one dark eyebrow raised. 'If you like, ____-chan.'

'Yes, _taicho_.'

His breath stuttered at hearing his title out of your mouth. His eyes lidded and he bent to brush his lips against yours. ' _Oh_ , I think I see.'

You hurried to untie his hakama, at last, and tug his fundoshi free and- There. He was heavy and hard in your palm, the skin smooth and warm. You gave him a long stroke, feeling his back tense as he pushed himself into your grasp. A quiet moan vibrated against your neck, where his face was buried. The fondling didn't last long. He took your hands and put them against his hair, a silent instruction to toy with it. He _loved_ how you could never keep your hands out of it, the soft tugs against his scalp only an extra stimulus. Your knees feel open, limp with anticipation as he pressed himself against you. You were already drenched, nerves ablaze, as ready as you'd ever be.

'Aah, Ju...' you said, fisting your hands in his hair. Your thighs trembled as he slid inside, the blunt head of him pushing aside tight rings of muscle, setting off twinges of pre-emptive pleasure. His head hung low, shoulders tense, until his hips lie snug against yours. He opened his eyes and grinned at you, bending down to lavish you with sweet, open-mouthed kisses. You fidgeted beneath him, impatient for him to move, to overwhelm you, but you knew his limits. You kissed him back, long and slow, as your bodies adjusted.

He drew back his lean hips and pressed forward again, forcing a delighted ' _Yes_.' from your lips. He muffled any further cries with a searing kiss, his body settling into a smooth, rolling motion that filled you up, over and over, hitting all the best spots every time. Your legs wrapped around his waist, anchoring you to him, holding on as you were lost in a storm of sensation. That hollow ache had somehow metamorphosed into a furnace of heat and tension.

Time lapsed, forgotten and meaningless in his arms, either drowning in kisses or with locked gazes, watching his pupils dilate until his eyes were almost black and so dark you thought you might lose yourself in them and-

' _Sweetheart,_ ' he said, giving you a small, sexy as hell grin. Your eyes flared wide, and you yanked his head down to yours. More kisses. More lip, teeth and tongue. He groaned into your mouth.

Each slow, precise thrust took you further from yourself, inching you closer to ecstasy. Your toes were scrunched up, muscles winding tighter, breath coming in short, sharp pants, but you needed something more, _just a little more_...

He shifted an inch, just an inch. His pelvic bone pressed against your swollen clit. It was like a firework exploding at the base of your spine. You cried out his name, hands clenched in his white haori, wrinkling it, probably _ripping_ it... Your hot, slick core contracted tight around him, pulling at him in long, jerky pulses. You heard his choked gasp through the cacophony of your own heartbeat. He drove into you once, twice more, stiffened, shuddered, and fell still.

His weight settled on you, warm and heavy and heavenly, anchoring you even as you felt like a thing of light and tingling nerves. He murmured your name, bending his head to steal a kiss, exquisitely soft.

'Mm...I win...' you said, dreamy, as he rolled you onto your sides. His soft snort stirred your damp hair. He stroked it back off your face, snuggling you closer. You nestled in close, relaxing, though your muscles still twitched with the aftershocks. You were _definitely_ going to play cat-and-mouse again soon.

'No, my love, it was a tie.'


	18. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mild daddy kink.

He was a lazy, grouchy, arrogant _son-of-a-bitch_  and you were going to brain him with the next blunt object you got your hands on. You were burning, brilliant, _incandescent_ with rage. This was the third damn television he’d broken. You couldn’t afford to keep replacing them on your piss-poor wage. He didn’t have any concept of cost, and so thought nothing of punching the TV when he saw an actor with ‘eyes he didn’t like’.

‘Grimmjow Jaegar-fucking-jaquez!’ you yelled up the stairs, slamming your hand against the wall. ‘Why is the TV broken? Again!’

For a moment, silence. Then, bedsprings creaked, then floorboards. A low snarl of irritation drifted down the stairs before the tall silhouette of your boyfriend appeared at the top of them. Sunlight streamed through the hole in his stomach. He scratched at his chest, giving you the bored look only he and disdainful alley-cats could manage.

It only pissed you off more.

‘Well?’ you demanded. ‘Did you see another advert you didn’t like? What?’

He trudged down a few steps, coming into the light. His eyes were half-open, but when he got closer you saw they were the hot, lazy blue of the centre of a flame. His shoulders almost filled the hallway. He tilted his head. 

Your fight-or-flight instinct screamed. You ignored it.

‘What are you bitching about?’ 

‘The television!’

His gaze flicked past you toward the living room, then back. He shrugged, face set in a dangerous calm. Your knee bent, your foot automatically flexing to slide back, to give ground. A knot tightened in your belly. Torn between anger and anxiety, you were frozen in the middle of the hall. 

Grimmjow loomed closer, pressing his palm to the wall above your head, leaning down to your height. ‘What about it?’

Heat radiated off him, flushing your skin. A spicy, male scent filled your nose. Did he have to be shirtless for this argument? ‘You broke it again,’ you bit out, looking up into his eyes. Big mistake. Everything about his posture and his scent and his gaze screamed _predator._

‘What d’you expect me to do about it?’ 

‘I’m not buying another one,’ you said firmly. You turned and made to march into the kitchen, away from him and all his heat. You were stopped by the fist clenched in the back of your coat. ‘Let _go_.’

He pulled you back until you hit his chest. His hand circled round to the front, pressing on your stomach. Teeth nipped your ear. ‘Shout at me some more, baby.’

You scoffed. ‘You’re sick.’

He snickered, sliding his hand down under your waistband, between your legs, cupping you. He pressed a hard finger against the cotton of your underwear. A faint ripple of pleasure shot through you, urged on by his circling digit. ‘You’re soaked,’ he countered.

It was true, though it infuriated you to admit it. Your breath stuttered at his continued fondling, at his voice purring into your ear. Damn it, but for a rough, rowdy bastard, he knew how to be smooth at the worst times. ‘You think I’m gonna reward you with sex after you broke my TV?’

He didn’t reply, but bent his head to bite and suck and the tender skin of your throat. His hand moved down, a long finger sliding inside with embarrassingly little resistance. You shifted onto your tiptoes, gasping. He flexed the finger in a lazy motion that made your stomach clench. You grabbed his wrist, intending to pull it out of your jeans. He rotated his hand and brushed his thumb over your clit.

Your knees wobbled.

‘You’re such a bastard...’ you mumbled. ‘You’re buying another one. Go shift boxes for Urahar-ah!’

He pulled his hand free, only to yank down the zip of your jeans and pull them to your mid-thigh. They slipped to your knees as he bent you over toward the wall, pulling your ass against him. He was as hard as a rock, getting harder. Your anger had turned in on itself, burning you in different ways, filling you with a different sort of pressure. All you knew was that you needed some sort of relief or you were going to scream.

‘You better make it worth it,’ you snapped, gasping as he jerked your underwear down. Cool air hit heated flesh for just a second, then his belt buckle rattled and he grabbed your hips in a bruising clasp and there was pressure and a long, relentless thrust. You braced yourself against the wall on outstretched arms. ‘Grimmjow...’ you said, voice guttural. 

He took a fistful of hair and craned your head back. ‘Not what I wanna hear, baby.’

You laughed, hoarse. ‘Fuck off. I’m not in the mood. Just fuck me.’

He stayed completely and utterly still. You tried to wriggle your hips, get some friction along your inner walls. Nothing. You couldn’t budge an inch. You thumped the wall in frustration. 

‘Fine...’ you relented. Anything. You wanted it hot, rough, raunchy. ‘Fuck me...Daddy.’ Where he’d acquired this little kink, you had no idea. But there it was. 

‘That’s it!’ he crowed, jerking his hips back and barrelling forward again. You moaned, head hanging low between your arms when he finally let go of your hair to grab your hips. He took you hard, burying himself completely each time, gripping your ass and hips so hard you lost the feeling in your legs. You would have wicked bruises in the morning. 

Right now, you didn’t care. You wanted to call him every name under the sun, but the one that fell from your lips was: ‘Daddy... _yes,_ harder...’ Guttural grunts and rough, animal snarls, and the sudden rough pounding that nearly knocked your head on the wall. 

You pressed your head against the cool plaster, gasping for breath, eyes rolled back under fluttering lids. You were on _fire_ , drenched and spasming around him. Your boots slipped on the hall floor from the force of it. Heat coiled rapidly inside you, tight as a spring, threatening to loose at any second. 

‘Grimm...Daddy... _fuck_...’ You lost all sense and use of words, of the syllables coming out of your mouth. Your fingers dug into the wall, ruining the paint.

‘ _Fuck,_ baby. Scream,’ he snarled, and you did, shrieking at him to move faster. He obliged, howling with wild glee as he fucked you against the wall, getting his own satisfaction in the taut line of your back, the high-pitched moans from your mouth, the way you clamped down around him, squeezing him tight. 

You could feel it building. Your muscles clenched, your breath coming in sharp, short gasps, sweat running down your back, a twisting, hot intensity at the bottom of your spine. Just-

He stopped like someone had just flipped an off switch. Your eyes snapped open. He pulled out, and sank back in, glacier slow. You could feel every inch slipping inside, every vein running the length of his dick as it passed your entrance. The tangled threads of your orgasm began to unravel.

‘Don’t...don’t you _dare_...’ you snarled at him. You couldn’t stand to be teased. Not now. ‘ _Grimmjow_ ,’

He leaned over your back, his breath hot against your ear as he purred, ‘You know what to ask, kitten.’

He had self control at the shittiest times. You ground your teeth together. ‘L-let me come, Daddy.’

‘That’s it, good girl!’ he grunted, satisfied, plunging into you with the same force as before. Lightning bolts of pleasure streaked through you. _Yes_. There was no stopping him this time, nothing but the urgent friction where your bodies joined, the white-hot ecstasy as his length burned over your sweet spots, again and again, sending you higher each time. 

You came in a headlong rush, muscles taut, contracting around his cock in long, hard pulls. White lines danced behind your closed eyelids. You moaned, hoarse and high-pitched, clinging to the wall. He followed immediately after, his length twitching and jerking, filling you in a hot, wet rush. 

He pulled you up and back, slipping out. You sagged back against him, breathing like a spent racehorse, eyes closed. He wrapped a large arm around you, crushing you against him. You didn’t have the wherewithal to protest.

‘Did you like that, baby?’

‘You...owe...me...a...TV...’ you gasped out, opening a single eye to glare at him. 

‘I’ll steal you another one,’ he rumbled, nipping along the edge of your jaw.

At any other time, you might have protested the moral ramifications, but right now? ‘A _big_  one.’ 


	19. Abarai Renji/Reader

It begins when your eyes meet his across the room. It’s a small, plain room, with nothing but a U-shaped table, a podium, and a blackboard. It’s currently full of the fukutaicho of the Gotei 13, even the little pink-haired hellion from the eleventh division, though you’re sure she only turns up for the snacks. He stares back for a second, surprised to catch you watching. Then he leans back, his mouth turning up in a knowing smirk, and _smoulders_ at you from the other side of the room.

Heat floods your face. You jerk your gaze away, hoping no-one else has noticed the brief exchange.

_Damn it, Renji._

Your cheek prickles, then your neck. You shoot a quick glance over, and feel a flicker of outrage. He hasn’t looked away. His brown eyes are fixed on you, narrowed, roving over the exposed skin of your face and neck as though he is imagining touching you. As though he is _planning_ how he’s going to touch you.

You grip the edge of the table, sucking in a sharp breath. Hisagi gives you a curious look, but you wave him away, faking a yawn. He chuckles, assuming you’re as bored as he is.

You aim another tentative look in Renji’s direction.

He winks.

 _Fuck_. Your head whips to face back to Nanao. Her voice washes over you, the words not quite sinking in. Your mouth is a little dry. A half-full water cup sits in front of you, so you quench your thirst. It doesn't help. Your head is full of images of Renji in various states of undress, and you're almost certain you can feel phantom lips on your neck, hands on your thighs...

Teeth sinking into your lip, you stifle a small groan. He knows how vivid your imagination is. It's how he also knows all he has to do is shoot you the bedroom eyes and your mind will practically seduce you for him. Your lip stings, and unconsciously, you lick it.

A pen clatters to the floor from the other side of the room. Forgetting yourself, you look over. Renji is grinning, rubbing the back of his neck as he ducks under the table to retrieve his pen. When he sits back down, there is a tinge of red across his cheeks. Nanao carries on.

The rest of the meeting is psychological torture. You're betrayed by your own senses as they all zero in on him, scarcely ten feet away. You must be imagining the heat radiating off him. Others would notice if he was really putting out like a furnace.

The meeting is over.

You stumble to your feet, gathering up whatever is in front of you. Notes? Did you take any notes? It doesn't matter. You'll get them from Kira or Hisagi later. When your head isn't full of stupid, smirking, sexy as all hell red-haired jerks. You get halfway down the hall-

'Going somewhere, babe?'

The low voice stops you in your tracks. You turn around. Renji is leaning against the wall behind you, looking down at you. His eyes are hooded, his mouth quirked up in one corner. His shihakusho hangs off him like a work of art. Blood-red hair trails down from his ponytail, dragging your eyes to the line of his neck, his chest. Your repressed desire escapes its bonds and floods your bloodstream. Your heart pounds under its cage of ribs. You expel a shaking breath.

'R-Renji...'

His little smirk grows into a full-blown grin, heat flashing in his eyes. There are footsteps coming down the corridor. The other fukutaicho are finishing up, breaking apart into little twos and threes to head back to their own divisions. You should meet up with Hisagi and Matsumoto, head back. Yadomaru-taicho will be waiting for you, but...

You meet his gaze again.

Thirty seconds later and your back is pressed up against a set of shelves in a supply cupboard, your mouth fixed hard against Renji's, your fingers in his hair, his under your shihakusho, tugging, pulling layers askew to get at what's underneath. His rough fingertips find a nipple and pinch; your mouth falls open on a gasp and his tongue slips inside. You rise onto tiptoe, trying to correct the height difference. 

His groan vibrates into the kiss, tailing off in a growl. Your clothes fall away, wrenched aside, your fukutaicho badge clatters to the floor. It goes unnoticed. Sloppy kisses leave purpling, saliva-slick skin all the way down to your chest. He cups a breast in one hand, pushing it up to his hungry mouth. He’s so eager, so urgent, that his teeth scrape the delicate flesh. You whine, and pull on his hair so hard he detaches. 

Renji offers up an apologetic grin. Your head falls back against the shelves, chest heaving. The atmosphere between the two of you is electric, filling the tiny cupboard with the skittery energy of reishi. You need him to just open his hakama and _take._ You don’t have time- _What_? Your eyes open a sliver. His mouth is moving down over your stomach, pausing to lick at your navel.

An undignified squeak leaves your mouth. Oh, _god_ , he’s on his knees.

‘Renji...there’s no time...’ you say, hating yourself even as the words leave his mouth. Renji, bless him, brushes it off.

‘There’s _always_ time, babe,’ he says against your skin. He pushes your legs apart. His tongue is hot as he drags it against the soaked cotton of your underwear. A coil of pleasure tightens in your belly, your knees wobble. A quick fuck in the closet is one thing, but he wants to do _this. Here._

Red hair slips between your fingers when you pull it. The tie gets lost somewhere. Luscious red locks spill all over. His finger hooks in the lining of your knickers and pulls them away from your damp flesh. Cool air tingles, followed by hot breath. Your toes flex and wriggle, still in your sandals. 

‘Ren _ji_.’ The syllables of his name stumble over a moan as they both leave your mouth. 

‘You’re gonna love it,’ he says, skimming his large hands up the back of your thighs. He glances up, eyes full of fire. ‘I’ve been thinking about doing this to you all damn day.’ 

With that little revelation, all protests die away. He pulls your hips toward him, lifts his head and presses between your folds with the tip of his tongue. An exploratory stroke, touching, _tasting_. You reach above your head with one hand, gripping the edge of a shelf to keep yourself upright. You’ll have straight bruises all down your back and thighs, but who cares-

Everything - the closet, the people passing on the other side of that thin door, your taicho waiting in the office- all of it fades as the universe boils down to the whip-quick flicker of his tongue between your legs. It flexes against your skin, circling the small bundle of your clitoris, spreading your wetness, setting nerves aflame. He moans into you, gripping your hips tight. The sound hums up through your body. He’s growing overeager, sloppy, desperate to please.

He pulls your clit into his mouth with a hard suck, massaging it with his tongue. You gasp, hips grinding against his face, knees shaking. He grabs your hips and pulls you forward, harder against his tormenting tongue. 

‘ _Renji_ ,’ you hiss, yanking at his hair. He makes a noise of amusement, muffled. Soft slurping sounds and your ragged breathing fill the small space. Your vision grows cloudy around the edges. _Don’t look-don’t look down..._ Of course, you look down. Renji’s hulking shoulders, his red hair, clenched in your hands, stark black tattoos, hard, handsome face buried between your thighs... the visual sends a shock of lust through your system, whiting out conscious thought. His eyes open. 

He winks.

 _Bastard_. 

You clap your hand over your mouth as you come, muffling the loud moan that wants to get out. Your stomach clenches, your skin tingles, sweat drips down the length of your spine. He lets you ride it out, suckling softly until you’re limp and shaking. 

‘Oh, god, Renji,’ you whimper, gasping as he finally lets go. He eases back, wiping his mouth and chin on the back of his wrist. He gets up, and deliberately, licks his lips. He crowds you back against the shelves, smirk wide, his erection obvious where it presses into your soft stomach.

‘I hope you’ve got a little more time, babe.’ His voice is husky, deep and heavy with lust. You’ve already had a world-bending orgasm, but the combination of him and his reishi pressing in on your senses makes your weariness fade, fast. You grin. He takes it for a yes, eyes flaring. ‘Thank _fuck_. I’ve been dying to get my damn hands on you all through that stupid meeting.’

His kiss is deep, urgent, hot. It lights a fire inside you once again, and you’re gripping his shoulders, kissing along the lines of his tattoo where it sinks under his collar. He grunts, grabbing the back of your thighs and lifting so you can wrap them around his waist. He spins, bracing his back against the shelves. His erection presses against your core.

He adjusts himself, grunts, then lets out a smoky chuckle as he begins to sink inside. Your own weight pulls your hips down to his, impaling yourself on him, inch by inch. Tight muscles part and clench. He kisses you, groaning into the seam of your lips when he finally bottoms out. It’s exquisite, to be filled, to feel the heat of his skin on yours. 

 _Someone could open the door_. The thought pricks the back the of your mind, lifting the hair on the nape of your neck. A frisson of excitement ripples down your spine. 

He lifts you a few inches, muscles bunching under his shihakusho, and lets you slip back down. Pleasure blooms. You bury your face in his shoulder, clinging to him. 

‘You’re so tight,’ he complains, not sounding at all upset about it. He squeezes your ass hard enough to bruise as he pulls you up and down the length of his dick, the veins raised, rippling against your entrance with each pass. He strokes over a small node of nerves, again and again. You can feel the heat building again, a hollow ache this time, intensified by his thick length inside you. 

He moves harder, faster, shoving you up against the back of the door, which only opens inward, thank the gods, and thrusts into you with force. You bounce, yelping, and stare into his face, grinning demonically at you from inches away. His eyes are lidded, hair straggling down around his clenched jaw. 

‘ _You like that, baby_?’ he demands. 

Your answer is lost in the kiss that presses the back of your head against the door, his tongue invading your mouth like his dick is invading your body: a twin penetration that makes you limp and dizzy. His hips grind yours into the door, grinding you to dust. Your clit is pressed hard against his pelvis, tingling, burning with rough stimulation. You’re a hollow being, filled with nothing but light and pressure that is desperate to get out. 

If he was shirtless, you’d be clawing his back to shreds. Your teeth clash, your leg goes numb, he slips out once, twice. Neither of you care. Your back aches with the beginning of an orgasm, your spine curving back, your legs clenching around his waist. 

‘That’s it, come for me,’ he grits out, hair stuck to his forehead and neck, the cords in his neck standing out with the strain. Your head falls back, a cry leaving your throat. Something untwists inside you, unleashing a torrent of warm, throbbing pleasure. Your mouth falls open, eyes drifting closed. ‘That’s my good girl,’ he pants, punctuating each syllable with a rough thrust.

His own release chases yours, shuddering up his spine and through his long limbs. His cock twitches and jumps inside you, releasing a rush of wet heat. Your legs tremble like a fawn’s when he sets you down. 

Renji sags against the wall, panting, smirking. He fumbles to put himself away, tying his hakama in a sloppy knot. He grunts, bending, and retrieves your scattered clothes. 

‘You’re the only reason I look forward to those meetings, y’know.’

You tug your clothes from his hands, seeking a handkerchief to clean up a little. ‘At least you don’t have to explain to your taicho why you’re always limping,’ you grumble. 

Not that it really matters. Lisa lets you come back as late as you want.

As long as you tell her exactly what you’ve been up to.

You’ve got a _great_  story for her this time.


	20. Kotetsu Isane/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladies, it's time. Isane Kotetsu with a female s/o. Features: consensual bondage, mild overstimulation, Isane blushing a whole lot.

‘Are you sure about this, ____-chan?’ Isane asked, looking dubiously at the soft lengths of red silk that twined around her arms, and the bedstead. Elaborate knots kept her arms secured to the bed at a comfortable angle, with her head propped up on pillows. Her feet fidgeted on the sheets. 

‘Are the bonds too tight?’ you asked, running a gentle hand down her thigh.

She flushed. ‘N-no, but, it’s _your_ birthday…’

You smiled, leaning forward on your hands to press a kiss to those full lips. You felt rather than saw the twitch of her arms as she automatically reached out to pull you closer, and was thwarted. 

‘You’re the best present a girl could ask for, Isane-chan.’

Her large grey eyes widened, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink, but she smiled. Her stomach rose and fell rapidly, her pulse a nervous flutter at the base of her neck. Her knees were together, hiding herself from you, even in the soft light of the candles.

The bedroom was all muted gold light and forgotten cups of sake and your clothes strewn across the floor in disarray. Incense filled the air with a sweet, smoky scent. You sat back, wondering where to start. She was still a little tense, nervous at being vulnerable. 

 _Where to begin?_ She was lovely, lithe, and statuesque. 

You felt a smile curve your lips. She saw, and the blush crept down her neck toward her breasts, giving you a cue exactly where to start. You leaned over her, kissing her again. You melted together, your sigh of pleasure muffled by her mouth. You tasted her plump lower lip with a sweep of your tongue. Isane strained against her bonds. Her long legs tried to curl around your waist, pull you closer, but you pulled away, nuzzling at her neck. 

Her chin tilted up. ‘H-honey…’ she stuttered, using the term of endearment she reserved for private moments like this. It was sweet to your ears. Soft kisses down the column of her throat had her shifting underneath you, her head turning side to side. ‘You k- _know_  what that does to me…’

Which was exactly why you did it.

Her breasts were begging for your attention, pushed higher by the way you’d tied her arms, nipples tight with arousal. You kissed the first swell of them, lightly brushing your thumb over a diamond-hard nipple. She gasped. Your kisses trailed down until your lips brushed the little bud. You opened your mouth and licked, slow. 

‘ _A-aah.’_

Her little gasping moan was the only encouragement you needed to wrap your lips around the tip of her breast and suck. Her back arched, pushing herself toward you, offering herself up to your attentions. You hummed around the soft flesh in your mouth and stroked down her curving back, making her writhe.

‘____- _chan_ …’ she mewled, knees falling open, rubbing restlessly against your sides. You switched breasts, wondering how long you could linger before she drove you insane. Each stroke of your tongue made her body twist in your arms, already running high on arousal. If only she knew what you had in store for her.

You finally left off and she flopped back to the bed, panting. Her stomach fluttered as you kissed and licked down it, heading for the apex of her thighs. You glanced up once you reached her hips. Her eyes met yours, not quite glazed, but instead dancing with anticipation.

‘Happy birthday, honey.’

‘Thank, you Isa-chan,’ you purred, lowering your head, trailing hot kisses across her inner thigh. Her skin was soft and smooth as satin, growing warmer and wetter as you approached her core. Her breathing shallowed, hips shifting restlessly with anticipation. 

Your tongue darted out to give her a quick, teasing lick. Then pulled back.

She moaned. ‘____-chan…don’t tease.’

‘I won’t.’ Your voice was full of dark promises. Her eyes flared wide. You were up to something. ‘I bought myself a birthday present on my last visit to the world of the living,’ you said, reaching to one side of the futon where a nondescript wooden box lay. You opened it. Inside, on a bed of silk, lay a long, smooth pink object. Too smooth to resemble a real phallus, but with a ring of soft bumps near the head. And a dial of controls at the base.

You took it out, weighed it in your hands.

‘W-w-what is that?’ Isane asked, voice high. She stared at the device in your hand. With a wicked smile, you press the on-switch. It buzzed into life with a happy little hum, the tip shaking just slightly. Her eyes became round, her mouth falling open. ‘What are y-you going to do with that thing?’

You smiled, and ran the tip of it along the inside of her thigh. The vibration made her leg quiver, and she bit her lip. 

‘I’m going to play with you with it.’ Slyly, you reached out a delicate finger and traced the damp pink slit of her sex. She stiffened, blushing. ‘Here.’

‘B-but…’

‘Moan for me, Isa-chan,’ you said, pressing the head of the vibrator to the underside of her clit. Lowest setting. For now.

A breathy cry ricocheted off the walls. She clutched at the silk scarves that held her, feet scrabbling across the bed. You watched her through half-open eyes, rubbing the vibrator in slow circles across her clit. Then you took it away.

‘How was that?’

‘I…I…’ She panted, staring in consternation down at the device, then at you. ‘M-more, please?’

‘Anything for you, my love.’ 

You turned the vibrator up a notch and slid it back across her wet slit, rubbing her swollen clit. She arched, moaning, a line of sweat appearing down her torso. You looked down and saw her toes curl into the soft futon. Her reaction was so perfect, so sexy. You inched it down, pressing the slim device against her entrance, teasing. Her eyes popped open, her mouth opening to plead with you. You slid it inside before she had to ask, just an inch or two. Then out. Then in. Enter, retreat, enter, retreat. Slow as molasses, so she could feel every bump and vibration as it entered her, over and over. 

Her first climax came as a surprise even to you. She tensed up, head falling back, sweet moans echoing around the small bedroom. You eased the shaft out of her, admiring the glisten on the soft rubber. She was soaked. You leaned down and licked the soft, slick flesh clean. 

Isane gasped, hips lifting, twitching at the extra stimulation. ‘H-honey…’

‘That’s not the word we agreed on,’ you murmured, sucking the swollen bud of her clit into your mouth. You’d agreed on a safe word beforehand, because you weren’t going to tie up your sweet Isane without giving her some reassurance that she could say the word and be free. 

She chewed her poor lower lip and glanced away. Silent.

You grinned. She didn’t want you to stop. You wanted to taste more of her. Reclining on one side, you leaned over her hip. You kissed her, sucking softly, popping her clit in and out of your mouth. Clicking the vibrator up to the highest setting, you pressed it underneath her clit while you taunted her with broad sweeps of your tongue. 

‘____-CHAN,’ Isane shrieked, feet digging into the mattress, hips fidgeting under you. You could hear her tugging at the restraints, a moan leaving her lips on every exhale. Her thighs trembled and her toes curled. 

When her spine locked and every long line of her body was quivering with an intense orgasm, you pulled the vibrator away and slipped the length of it inside, twisting gently. A guttural, needy moan. Her skin slicked with sweat. She came again, the vibrator nudging and buzzing against her sweet spots. 

Enough. You wanted it to be all you now. You eased it out of her and turned it off, lying down on your stomach between her thighs. Running your hands along the delicate skin of her inner thighs, you lapped at her, tasting. It wasn’t sweet. She was a woman, not a candy bar. But it was _Isane_ , and she was your acquired taste. A taste that you associated with her in raptures of pleasure.

Your name tumbled off her lips like a prayer. You glanced up. Her head lolled against her arm, lips red and swollen from biting, a flush high on her cheeks, short silver hair plastered to her face and neck. Her eyes were dark and glazed with pleasure. You winked up at her from between her thighs, then bent to taste her all over again.

When her moans turned to whimpers, and her thighs quivered under your hands, you gave a final, hard suckle that made her stomach visibly spasm. She came weakly, joints loose, body slicked with sweat. 

‘F-fishcakes…’ she said hoarsely.

Immediately, you pulled away, sitting up. You reached for her face, stroking her cheeks. ‘Okay, sweetheart,’ you said. You reached for the knots and started to undo them. ‘You were amazing.’ Kisses along her cheek, a gentle one against her sore lips. ‘Are you thirsty?’ 

She smiled faintly, giving you a nod. You reached for a glass of water and a damp cloth to clean the sweat from her limbs, the stickiness from her thighs. She drank it down and curled into your waiting arms, nuzzling into your neck. 

‘Happy birthday, honey.’

‘It really was.’


	21. Hollow Ichigo-Zangetsu/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Features bondage, dominance, sex toys, overstimulation.

The sea of bodies flash in and out of view, like an ocean lit by lightning strikes, and the bass is a visceral pounding in your chest, a hard vibration under your feet. The three cocktails are like a twist of orange and lime in your mouth, sharp citrus and spice. This is it. This is why you came out tonight.

Nami bounds out of the wall of partygoers around you, her mouth working in the dark. She’s yelling, but the beat is so loud that she looks like a fish, silent and nonsensical.

You laugh at the perfection of the comparison. Nami means _wave_ , after all. Her lips press up against your ear, her voice buzzes down into your brain.

‘Who’s that guy staring at you?’

You turn your head and sweep the crowd. A cursory motion. You don’t really care about whatever oversexed, overbuzzed guy has his eyes on you. You’re here to lose yourself in the music, not some man’s arms. Besides, he wouldn’t stand for it.

He’s like a marble statue in the middle of that lightning-struck ocean.

You’d almost forgotten that Nami could see things too.

_Zangetsu._

His eyes, like burnished gold coins swimming in pools of black, find you unerringly. He’s stark white against the black and neon. His clothes are the same. White hakama, like a reverse shinigami, or an Espada. Not that you would tussle with any of those. He looks like a demon in the middle of a party.

And how far is that from the truth?

Your breath seizes up. It isn’t fear. Your fingertips go numb as blood surges to your face, flushing your cheeks. A slow, wide smile crosses his face, and his eyes narrow. Automatically your nipples harden under your dress, and there’s a hollow throb between your legs.

‘I have to go,’ you say to Nami, so soft she definitely can’t hear.

‘What? Who is that guy?’ she demands.

‘My...’ _Lover, demon, bastard, sex-buddy, ghost_. All of the above. ‘See you later!’ you yell at her.

It’s only the glint of excitement in your eyes that makes her let you go. Your grin is almost as wild as his usual ones. You haven't seen him in weeks, you haven't _felt_ him in weeks, and now he's there, drawing you to him like a lodestone. The crowds part and meet around you, letting you through with surprising ease.

The closer you get, the more his energy wraps around you. By the time you reach him, it's buzzing on and under your skin, tingling. The hairs on your arms have lifted. Standing next to him is like being in a lightning storm. The strobe lights only add to the effect.

' _Baby_.'

He doesn't have to raise his voice for it to reach you. It has a crackle in it, like electronic feedback. You've always wondered about it, but never thought to ask. It's just _him_. You don't even know what he is. You don't care. Because when he surges forward and seals his lips across yours it's like that same electricity you felt in the air is now running through you. Your hair crackles as his greedy fingers dive into it, curling tight to keep your head at the precise angle he wants it.

You're not sure how this must to look to someone who can't see him. It doesn't matter, not when his heat burns you through your black silk club dress and his tongue is hot in your mouth. Sparks dance behind your eyes. You can feel the hint of teeth in his kiss, and you know what he's going to say next.

' _You're coming with me_.'

'Okay,' you murmur, the roar of the club fading around you. His hand closes on your hip, hauling you against him. The air around you distorts, seems to unfold, and the sticky dancefloor falls away beneath you. The next thing you know is cool sheets, hard male body, and teeth against your neck. 'Zanget-'

His thumb, white as bone, strokes across your vulnerable throat. He doesn't press down. He hardly needs to. Your breath is frozen in your throat. 'You know what I wanna hear from you, baby.'

Your lips part in a grin. 'King.'

His eyes flash, and he leers, pleased. ' _That's my girl_.' White hair tickles your jaw, neck, sternum as he covers your skin in open-mouthed kisses, marking you up like a leopard's spots. His hands slid down your hips, over your ass, down the back of your thighs. Your short dress rides up as he pulls your legs wide open, dragging you down beneath him until his lean hips are snug between yours. His erection is a hard, hot brand through the layers of your clothes.

You reach up and delve your fingers into his shock of white hair, trying to pull him down for another kiss. You want to be devoured by him, feel more of him against you. There's nothing quite as heady as when you're completely swept up in him. He resists the summons, taking your wrists in one large, rough hand and pinning them down over your head. Excitement coils in your stomach, hot and tight.

'You know how we do this,' he says. His grin is sharp at the edges, a little feral. Who are you kidding? It's a _lot_ feral. Your fingers flex and strain against his hold, testing how much he means it. Sometimes he lets you break free, only to 'punish' you more after. His grip is unbreakable. He hardly seems to notice, rooting through your nightstand.

The bottom drawer is full of tools and toys. Things that you would blush for anyone but him to find. He smirks as he rifles through, lust and power gleaming in his eyes. Cuffs rattle as your arms are secured to the bedstead, leaving you prone and helpless beneath him.

He sits back, smirking. Those golden eyes trail down, lingering where the neckline of your dress drapes over your breasts, at the where the hem reveals the soft skin of your thighs. As much as he likes it, he wants it gone. And so it is. A tearing noise fills your small bedroom, black silk flutters to the floor.

You jerk at your cuffs in outrage. That dress was your favourite. 'You asshole! You're buying me a new one!'

'I'll steal you one,' he says offhand, fiddling with a purple toy. He hasn't seen it before. 'What's this?'

Your cheeks heat. 'Um.'

He senses your embarrassment like a shark senses blood. _Prey_. 'Tell me what it does, baby.'

Your insides squirm with anxiety, anticipation. 'I-it's a butterfly.'

'And it does what?' He frowns at it, one black-nailed finger pressing at a switch on the side. The purple butterfly buzzes to life. His sudden grin is salacious and unnerving as hell. He taps it against your thigh. 'Where does it go?'

'M-my...' You stumble over your words, eyes fixed on that object in his hand. Your throat is dry as you say, 'My clit.'

'Why does it look like this?' He holds it up. It's small, about the size of your palm, flat, save for the vibrating nodules.

'S-so you can wear it during sex,' you breathe. You see it. The idea, germinating in his mind. His pale lips curve up, part, flashing his teeth at you. You've handed him exactly what he wants: the key to your torment. The air in the room seems to close around you. He lowers himself over you like a wolf over its prey, trailing the buzzing device down your stomach. It stirs up the metaphorical butterflies in your gut. 'What are you-'

Your underwear suffers similar casualties to your dress. He doesn't appreciate nice lingerie; he either rips it off or ignores it completely. Zangetsu only cares about what's underneath. He likes skin, and sweat, and the taste you leave in his mouth when you come. It's quite refreshing, really, to have a man care nothing for the decoration, and value only the natural, basic parts of you.  

Your skin is all goosebumps, though not from the chill. Zangetsu's eyes zero in on the vee between your legs, on the glisten of moisture. He turns the butterfly over in his palm. Without warning, he presses it into place. You yelp. It _pinches_ , and the low buzz travels right through you. Every muscle in your body contracts, your toes furl. A long finger slips inside you, curls.

Your stomach lurches, pleasure rocketing through you. 'Zang- _nn_ -King!' You gasp, switching to his preferred title when he adds another finger and _twists_. You've gone from arousal to brink of orgasm in the blink of an eye. You twist your wrists in their bonds, hips jerking into his touch, and the inescapable hum of the butterfly.

'Do you want me to fuck you?' he asks.

Is he joking? It’s like asking a woman dying of thirst if she wants a glass of water. Like challenging an Espada to a fight. The only answer is-

‘ _Yes!’_

But it’s not as simple as that. His fingers drum against the butterfly, pressing the vibrations harder against your aching clit. Your breath stutters with each tap. You bite your lip, muffling a whimper. 

‘You think you’re gonna get it that fucking easy, baby?’ he drawls, that strange dissonance in his voice even more apparent. You know from his smirk, know the word that is going to fall from his bloodless lips. ‘ _Beg_.’

Pride is a thing you check in at the door when Zangetsu is pulling you toward the bedroom. In exchange, you get his satisfied smirks, and screaming orgasms. Therefore, it doesn’t take much coaxing. 

‘P-please, fuck me. _Please fuck me, King._ ’

The words are a siren song to him. His kiss, violent and devouring and full of teeth and tongue, forces you flat against the bed. He has a fistful of hair. The prickle of pain over your scalp is barely a low note compared to the crescendo of pleasure between your thighs. His hips grind into yours, pressing hard on the butterfly. You moan into his mouth, eyes rolling under their lids. Your first orgasm erupts through you, your inner muscles clenching on aching emptiness.

He notes how you strain against him, oversensitive already, and pulls back, leaving your lips bruised and damp. 

‘Already?’ he crows, pushing your knees wide apart. The butterfly is still _there_ , still buzzing, pinching. Your thighs tremble, your hips wriggle. His expression is beyond devious, into pure villainy. ‘I didn’t say you could come, babe. Should I just leave you like this all night?’

The thought is both tempting and terrifying. ‘I’m sorry,’ you gasp. ‘I couldn’t help it.’

‘Tch.’ 

He jerks at his clothes, letting the kimono fall to the bed. He is pale as paper, hard-muscled. A moonlight predator. And you’re chained up like some kind of sacrifice. You watch as he unravels a black obi, undoes his hakama-ties. His erection is stiff, thick and long, already leaking. Lucky for you, he’s too impatient to tease you for long. You’re going to get fucked, and you can’t  _wait._

You’re drenched. There’s no resistance as he burrows the first inch inside you. Arching up, you shudder with satisfaction, nipples hardening with the fresh flush of stimulation. You’re filled in three hard strokes, each of which forces a grunt from your throat. 

It’s perfect. You can’t touch him, you can’t escape him. Your clit is swollen, burning, tingling, clamped in a pretty little torture device. Your sex is filled, stretched. He leers down at you, gripping your hips in two hard hands, holding you still.

Slow and gentle aren’t in Zangetsu’s vocabulary. 

His hips jerk back and barrel right back in, his cock filling you up with brutal precision. The first thrust shunts you up the bed, the following ones making you clutch the headboard, handcuffs or no. Pleasure isn’t the right word. Ecstasy comes close. 

 _Rapture_. The word has enough violence, enough of a sense of being overwhelmed, to describe being fucked by Zangetsu. His fingers dig in hard enough to bruise, and they will. His body is like a wound spring, all of its tension released into you. It’s an exchange of power, of energy. He ravages over every sensitive nerve, hauling your hips back and forth, shaking the bed, rattling your bones. 

And the butterfly is still there.

Your toes are curled so tight you can’t feel them anymore, your lips are bitten to shreds, throat raw from holding in screams. He twists your legs, hauling one over his shoulder, dropping the other on the bed. You know what’s going to happ-

He surges forward. One hand buries in the pillow beside your head, clenched into a fist, the other grasps your chin and jerks it up, forcing your eyes to lock. His are wild, burning. His body shifts, and then- _Oh god_. The weight of his hips presses down on the butterfly every time they slam home. Thrust, _buzz_. 

It goes on. And _on_.

Time slips away, losing all meaning. You might been underneath him for a second or a century. No matter.

Your bones are water, your skin, fire. Sweat pools between your breasts, in the hollows of your throat, above your upper lip. He lowers his head and licks your throat, tasting. His fingers are in your hair, pulling your head back into an arch. Your moans come out guttural, strangled.

The sounds that fill the room are crude, animal: grunts, whines, whimpers, skin hitting skin. The bed creaks in protest. You don’t care if he breaks it. Again. 

Your nerves are short-circuiting, overwhelmed by the rough stimulation, the intensity of it. Your foot digs into his back, the other into the mattress, pushing your hips upward. It’s sweet torture, and you’re nothing if not a masochist. 

He nips the shell of your ear, hard. It stings. He chuckles, the sound enough to raise your hackles. _Strange. Distorted._ ‘Scream for me.’

Zangetsu wraps both your legs around his waist, grinding into you. You bow off the bed, shuddering, jerking at your cuffs. You’ll have bruises in the morning; the cuffs aren’t padded. The butterfly is a constant pressure, on the highest setting. So sensitive, so full.

You can’t stand it for another second.

A shriek claws free of your throat, taking the form of his name in three rasping syllables. ‘Zan- _GETSU.’_ He doesn’t mind his name when you’re coming. He wants people to know whose fault this is. Who you belong to. Every filament of your body is blazing, every muscle taut and twitching. The orgasm tears through you, making you spasm, inside and out. Heat, light, pressure.

He endures it with a hoarse moan, holding your writhing hips still. He sneers, enjoying your overstimulated whimpers, your aimless kicking. He’s not done. _Oh god_ , he’s not come yet. You’re a mess: dewy with sweat, limp, hair clinging to your face and neck, inner-thighs sticky with your own juices. And he’s not finished.

The butterfly is a nuisance now. ‘Please. T-take it off...’ you implore, panting for breath. 

He’s feeling indulgent, because it’s removed with an annoyed ‘Tch.’

‘Thanks,’ you say, giving a weak grin. ‘Mm...King...’

It is exactly the right thing to say. He sprawls over you, his cock lodging deeper, his face inches from yours. The pace is hard, punishing, but it no longer feels like he’s out to torture you. Grasping the back of your neck, he kisses you hard, tongue slipping in when you mewl with pleasure. It dominates yours, robbing you of breath, of conscious thought. He’s everywhere: in your mouth, in your core, in your head.

You’re going to lose yourself in him. That is, until he groans, his back tensing. The muscles in his arms bulge where he holds himself above you. You watch, fascinated, as his abdominal muscles flex with each thrust. His rhythm grows sloppy, his teeth baring in a grimace. 

Fuck it, he’s not giving in just yet. Braced on one arm, he reaches between your bodies, pressing a rough thumb against your sore, swollen clit. You tense up, moaning as another, weaker orgasm ripples through your aching body. That’s enough for Zangetsu. He lets go with a wild howl, his body surging against you, pounding you into the mattress for his last, desperate thrusts.

He comes in a torrent of heat, jerking inside you, throbbing. The air rushes out of you as he collapses, face-first, into your torso. His head rests on your breasts. You feel him slip out, a warm trail runs down your thigh. Who cares? You’re so satisfied, the Cheshire Cat would find you obnoxious.

‘Zangetsu,’ you mumble, trying to dislodge him. Your wrists ache, your fingers are numb. He growls, annoyed. ‘Zangetsu, get these off.’

With a curse, he reaches up and yanks at the cuffs. They snap like cheap plastic, and he buries his face back between your breasts, nuzzling, smug. You should be annoyed that he’s broken yet another possession, but you’re just glad to have your arms back, and toss them to the floor. He grunts when you work your fingers into his hair, but doesn’t shake you off. He’s needed this as much as you. 

Your heart rate slows as you lie there, the roaring in your ears starts to lessen.

Until he lifts his head and sucks your nipple straight into his mouth, eyes flashing molten gold. You feel him, stiff again, against your inner thigh. 

It’s going to be a long night.


	22. Kurotsuchi Mayuri/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Extremely long. Features scientist/experiment dynamic/kink. Features use of sex toys. Completely consensual.  
> Happy New Year!

It was an honest mistake. Wasn’t that how these things always started? You thought it was safe to look through his private book collection. Surely he kept the dangerous books in his private laboratory, not on the shelves in your home library. Wrong. It could have been worse, all told. You might have discovered a book that spay poison, or one detailing gruesome dissections.

Instead, the book had left you red-faced, kneeling on the library floor, mind riddled with filthy fantasies.

Who knew Mayuri had run so many sex experiments? Or had created so many...inventions. You flipped through the pages, poring over each brilliantly-drawn device. They were rendered in excruciating detail. Every button and nodule labelled. Every...protrusion. Your tongue darted out to wet your dry lips. _Mayuri, Mayuri, Mayuri_. The small blocks of text on each page made your heart pound. Mayuri had written these words. Mayuri had thought of these things.

Who knew he had it in him?

When Mayuri finally dragged himself home from the lab, you were going to have a little chat.

 

* * *

 

Fools. All of them, bumbling, hamfisted idiots with pork dumplings for brains. If Akon hadn’t vowed to clear up the mess and discipline those involved, Mayuri would have levelled the entire laboratory with a the small incendiaries he’d placed everywhere. Not even Nemu knew about those. Originally a failsafe measure for outright disaster, he’d taken to thinking of them every time one of his subordinates ticked him off.

It was probably a sign he needed to go home. The best way to curtail murderous tendencies was a hot shower and short, deep sleep. Perhaps he would even sit with ____ for a while. She was blessedly quiet most of the time, and it would soothe his nerves not to be surrounded by incompetence.

Mayuri left the laboratories with a vein throbbing in his temple (he should really just remove that) and a cool rage still lurking beneath the surface. He would calm himself with some light experimentation at home. His personal lab was free of subordinates and stray, careless fingers. And there _was_ that fascinating theory on Hollowfication he'd been tinkering with for half an age.

His own quarters were but a short walk from the labs. Before, he'd simply had a room within the laboratories themselves, but his acquisition of a partner had required some changes. Even he could see the good sense in having a space apart, since when he was at work he could focus entirely, without intrusions from his personal life. And ____ appreciated not having to live in the midst of a thousand experiments.

He removed his white haori in the hall and proceeded straight to the bathroom to disrobe and clean away his make-up. There would be no returning to the laboratory tonight. His mind was in no state for it. As much as the thought disgusted him, he was _distracted_. Abominable.

The house was curiously quiet, he mused, turning on the shower. The spray hissed, splattering against the tile. Perhaps she wasn't home, though he was at a loss for where she would go. He knew, dimly, that she had friends with females from the other divisions. It had never occurred to him to wonder who, or care much.

She was good like that, he thought, stepping into the spray. She would amuse herself and not pester him overmuch. She had an inquisitive mind, but enjoyed seeking answers on her own. The water hit his naked back. He turned his face into it, allowing the thick black and white paint to smear and run down his neck and chest. It was what had caused him to notice her in the first place. Why on earth was someone in the eighth division requesting copies of his publicised research from the archives? He'd traced the activity, learned her name, and learned to watch her.

Finally, he'd found himself confronted by a quiet young woman, asking if he'd made any further progress into the development of an obscure strain of virus research, because she'd read all of his research and it had ended abruptly. Mayuri recalled that research. He'd dropped it as soon as something more interesting came along. When he told her as much, she had looked disappointed for half a second, before demanding to know what was so interesting he'd had to switch. From there, she'd squirrelled her way into his life, his house, his bed.

He leaned his head back, blinking water out of his eyes. Perhaps there was a source of distraction, if he chose to take it up. Then, as if the universe had been reading his mind (perish the thought), her voice cut through the shower spray.

'Mayuri, could I talk with you about something when you're done?' Her voice, though quiet as ever and half-muffled by the water, had a strange edge to it. He looked round. She had something tucked under her arm. His golden eyes narrowed. It looked suspiciously like one of his research books. Ah, so she wished to discuss one of his old projects. Well, no harm there. She was a good sounding board for ideas, attentive, quiet, inquisitive. It might have been the heat from the shower, but her face was oddly flushed.

'Fine,' he conceded, unconcerned at his own nudity. 'Just get that book out of here before the damp gets to it.'

She nodded, turning and leaving without any further behest. Mayuri closed his eyes and ducked beneath the water, intending to enjoy the rest of his shower in peace. The last he would know for a while.

 

* * *

 

 

You drummed an impatient tempo on the cover of the research book, eyes fixed on the library door. Your insides were squirming with anticipation, overlaid by a slight, icy nervousness. If he told you to get out and leave him alone you'd be bored and distracted all night, thinking of what might have been. But, if he was in the right space between boredom and indulgence, he might give in to your request. _Run a little experiment on me, Mayuri. Just a little one._ Perhaps not. If you phrased it like that, he might think you wanted an extra arm or something.

Footsteps in the hall. He appeared in the library doorway, a grey yukata looking strange against his (for once) human-coloured skin. His royal blue hair was shoved away from his face, tousled and still-damp after towelling off. He gave you one glance, then looked at the shelves to see what the missing volume was.

His gaze snapped back to you. 'You stumbled across that, did you? Too disturbing for you, was it?' If you weren't mistaken, there was a mild hesitation in his words, as though he was embarrassed. 'Give it here.'

You pressed your lips together and held the book tighter. 'What did you do with them?'

Mayuri's eyes narrowed. 'What?'

'The devices you made? Where did they go?'

'Why would you want to know that?' he asked, suspicious. 'What a stupid question.'

You flipped open the book to the one picture that had captivated your mind all afternoon. It was done in lurid detail. You tapped a finger against it. 'I'm particularly interested to know what happened to this one, _Mayuri-sama_.'

He stared. '____, what is wrong with you?' He stormed over, taking firm hold of your wrist. 'Did you ingest something in my laboratory, you foolish woman?'

Amusement warred with irritation. You got to your feet, pressing your free hand against his cheek, ignoring his expression of outrage. 'I haven't touched anything in your lab, Mayuri. But I _do_ want to know about these marvellous creations of yours. I've been thinking about them all day. Your research is so very detailed, but I'd like to see them, to experience them, in person.'

He looked as though he'd been struck over the head with a glass beaker. He released your wrist of a sudden, staring at you in disbelief. 'What is this?'

You smiled, giving a little shrug. 'You see everyone and everything as something to be investigated. Why not investigate me, with these? You flipped through the pages, shivers running down your spine at some of the illustrations. 'You stopped because you couldn't find the right test subject, correct?'

'That research was a waste of time.'

'But,' you countered, 'why let all of those inventions go to waste? You're home early and you've bathed. You have nothing else planned for the evening.'

'Foolishness,' he muttered, jerking the book out of your hands. He ran his one overlong fingernail down the page you'd been staring at, eyes flashing like gold coins as they darted up to look at you. 'I'd no idea you were such a degenerate.'

You touched his upper arm. 'Everyone has their facets. Why not discover some more of mine?'

He snagged your chin in his right hand, that long fingernail tapping your cheek. He stared at you, cool and calculating, for what felt like an age. When he let go, you were ready to be disappointed. Mayuri's moods were fickle as Spring winds- He took the book and tucked it under his arm, then took hold of your elbow. As he steered you from the library, your heart began to pound.

'You will do precisely as you are told,' he ordered. 'Obviously, I will not allow any damage to occur to you, but if you are going to help with my research, you will obey my commands, and answer questions when they are given.' His voice had a rough undertone that sent chills through you. His lab was in a separate part of the house, beyond biohazard doors he accessed through his elaborate security protocols. The lab was comparatively small, but well-equipped for his private experiments. He led you over to a flat, padded table. There were straps and...stirrups. 'Strip and lie down.'

'Mayuri...' you started, caught half between lust and trepidation. 'You don't need to tie me.

'If previous experiments taught me anything, ____, it is that you will need to be restrained. Lie down.'

You swallowed your nerves, undressed, and lay down. Mayuri strapped down your wrists, your elbows, your hips, and after placing your ankles in the stirrups, spreading your knees wide open, he tied those too. Your face flamed red, even as the cool, sterile air of the lab brushed over your skin, raising goosebumps. You were completely vulnerable, lewdly exposed, and damn if you weren't enjoying it. Mayuri reappeared with a handful of EKG leads. He smoothed your hair out of the way, sticking one against each temple. Moving down, he attached more to your chest to measure your heart-rate and breathing. If he noticed your laboured breathing, he made no comment.

'Wait here.' As though you could do anything but. He left your immediate line of sight to begin rooting around in the storage cupboards. You turned your head, trailing EKG leads, to watch him. He took his white lab coat from the stand and drew it on. 'I knew I left it around here somewhere.'

He straightened up with a heavy white box. Grunting a little beneath its weight, he carried it over to the examination table, placing it on the side-counter. It required a drop of his own blood to open, which he gave. _He didn't want anyone else to stumble across it_ , you realised. _But why was the book in the library?_ The contents of the case drove all thoughts from your mind.

Lovingly nestled in their own little compartments, were a selection of bottles and...toys. Your eyes widened at the sight, and damp heat pooled between your open legs. He was going to use those on you. Mayuri saw your expression, and huffed, amused. He picked up an unmarked silver bottle and leaned over you.

'I had no idea you were so depraved, ____.'

'You're the one who invented all this,' you challenged, gasping when something cold dripped onto your bare left breast. The gasp turned into a sigh as his gloved fingers - _when had he even put those on?_ \- rubbed the cool gel into your nipple, which immediately began to tingle intensely. 'W-what is that?'

'A stimulant,' he said blandly. 'It will make your nerve endings precisely five times more receptive than usual. Any more than that, and I'd end up with you foaming and drooling all over my lab.'

' _Mayuri_.' He was already applying the stimulant to your other breast, leaving the first slippery and hard as a diamond.

'Cease your prattling.'

' _Mayuri-sama_ ,' you breathed, toes flexing and curling when he moved to stand between your legs. You could already feel your nerves pulsing, reacting to just the air. If he applied it there... Cool, viscous gel dripped. Your entire body seemed to tighten, even before he rubbed it in. A wordless moan left your lips, and you arched against the restraints. He coated his fingers and slipped them inside you, twisting them to spread the stimulant as far and evenly as possible. ' _M-Mayuri_!' His name grated out of your throat.

He slipped his fingers free and watched you with cool dispassion. The slight breeze from the air-regulator felt like a thousand electric kisses over your erogenous zones. You were going to come from this alone, tied down and spread wide, while he just stood there and watched you. He pulled off his latex gloves with a snap, threw them into a hazardous waste bin, and put on a clean pair.

He deliberated far too long over his little collection for it to be just indecision. He was tormenting you. Or at least, that was how it felt. By the time he turned around, your hips were bucking, your body burning. Small, shamefully needy whimpers left your throat. He had it in his hands - the device you'd been staring at all day. Your stomach gave a lurch.

It was a vibrator, but more complex and intuitive than a vibrator could ever be. A clean shade of white, it was phallic with a heavy base that would attach to a mechanical arm at the base of the examination table. The length that would fit inside you was larger than anything you were used to, close to seven and a half inches, riddled _with vibrating nodules that stimulate the walls of the test subject's vagina. The phallus oscillates in repeating patterns to provide further stimulation, in accompaniment to the clitoral attachment. See fig. B for-_

Your mind jerked away from its remembrance of Mayuri's notes when he lined the tip of the vibrator up with your entrance. Even that small nudge sent starbursts of pleasure through your nerves. He wasn't finished, not by far. There were more secrets in his box of tricks. He smiled, a little sinister, as he brought out two small, round objects. They were flattish, and white. You hadn't seen those in the book.

'W-what are those?' you asked, breathless.

'They adhere to your breasts,' he said with clinical detachment. 'The gel activates the motion.'

 _Motion? What motion?!_ You found out soon enough. The second the first disc touched your gel-covered nipple, it contracted around it, pulsing rhythmically. It was _sucking_. Your fingers clawed at the edges of the table, head tilting back. _Shit_. The feeling was intense, and only doubled when he applied the second. Sweat began to form on your forehead. He'd barely begun and already your thighs were quivering, your heart thundering. What the hell had you let yourself in for?

He returned to the vibrator. Your mouth fell open as he guided it inside you. It wasn't switched on yet, but the nodes and bumps running along the length caressed you like nothing you'd ever felt before. It was a stretch, its girth widening the further inside it slid.

'Relax, girl.'

His voice only made you shiver all the more. His instruction was impossible to obey. When the device was seated fully inside, he repositioned the attachment, a round disc identical to the ones on your breasts, and pressed down. Your eyes flew open as it sealed itself around your clit and began to suck. A moan left you. You were going to come right there and then.

He flipped a switch at the base of the vibrator. It whirred into life. Your restraints must have been made of something extra strong, because you jerked and thrashed at them like a woman possessed. Mayuri stood back, picking up the EKG reader, but he barely glanced at it. His eyes were fixed on your body, as you arched up, again and again.

You were going to shatter apart into a thousand pieces. The gel had turned your ordinary nerves into minature supernovas, setting them off with every buzzing, rubbing jerk of the vibrator. All while your oversensitive clit and nipples were sucked with blind, inhuman hunger. Your mouth was open, eyes closed, moans and gasps and grunts spilling out.

The pleasure build into something so intense it locked every muscle of your body so tight you half wondered if your bones would break. You didn't know how long it lasted, but it seemed an age that you were stiff and shuddering with pleasure, almost seizing up with it. You ripped through the first layer of the padded table, fingers curling into the fabric, needing to hold onto anything.

It was near painful. Kicking, bucking, striving to get away from the merciless machine and the relentless suckling of your most sensitive areas, you were helpless, tied down and pleasured and watched by your scientist-cum-torturer. There was no escape.

'May-M-Ma _yuri_...' you gasped, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. He leaned over you, pretending to be tapping the EKG leads, making sure they were still in place. He gave your splayed, shaking body a look of satisfaction, and offered you a faint smile.

'You were just the distraction I needed,' he said, as if in praise. 'Your results will be very useful, ____. I believe I'll have to try everything on you.'

When your body was locked up in an agony of pleasure, stimulation, and desperation, there came an extra nudge from the vibrator that sent you screaming over the edge. You kicked so hard your leg flew out of one of the stirrups. You were blind, deaf, dumb, to everything but the explosions going on behind your eyelids, and your nerves were so overburned they might never feel anything again after he was through with you.

Mayuri moved around you as you fell back to the examination table, slick with sweat, your thighs coated in your own fluids, your limbs weak and twitching. He eased the vibrator out. You groaned as its retreat set off faint sparks and ripples. The discs detached with a touch from their creator. You shuddered with relief.

'Not a bad experiment, though I see I'll have to use stronger restraints,' he said. He took a towel from one of the cupboards and began to wipe off the table, and you, since you were in no fit state to move. You groaned when he brushed over the areas the gel had been applied. 'Stop complaining. That will wear off within a few hours. You were very receptive to the gel and the instruments.' He stopped to check the EKG. 'More so than previous subjects. That was only level one out of fifteen.'

Your head jerked up. 'What.'

Mayuri turned the screen so you could see. Your heartrate and brainwaves were off the charts. He tapped the screen with his fingernail.

'Keep your evenings free. We have a lot of work to do.'


	23. Hirako Shinji/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shinji spends a day walking in his s/o's shoes...er, underwear.

Shinji has never considered himself a snob, but he does enjoy some of the finer things in life ever since he's attained the rank of taicho. Even more so since being denied most of them in his century long exile. What can compare to the sound of high-quality smooth jazz, good chilled sake, or the feeling of silk on his skin? That last luxury is what plagues his mind as he walks through the streets of his division, Momo trailing anxiously at his heels. Greetings and short bows flow his way from his subordinates, which he acknowledges with a tense jerk of his chin. His teeth show in a grimace, a line of tension running up his back. It makes Momo nervous, because she can't figure out why he's in a sour mood.

His usual loping gait is _off_ somehow, though she can't quite put her finger on it. Perhaps he's hurt his leg, or his back aches? As a good fukutaicho she should ask and figure out some kind of remedy, but his narrowed gaze and set jaw are uncharacterstically forbidding. Asking is not a good idea.

The sun is sinking behind the roofs, bleeding the sky red, orange, and violet. Soon the streets will flood with shinigami heading out for dinner, back to their quarters, or night-shifters reporting for duty. Shinji seems set on getting back to his office before the main rush begins, if his fast, jerky pace is anything to go by. It's a relief when they approach the admin building.

'Hirako-taicho?' asks Momo. 'Permission to go? I finished all the paperwork-'

He glances over his shoulder, almost surprised to see her. In truth, he was so wrapped up in his dilemma that he'd practically forgotten she was there. He grunts. 'Sure. Go. See ya tomorrow.'

Momo hesitates. What if he's depressed? 'Taicho,' she says tentatively. 'Are you okay?'

Shinji shoots her a toothy grin that seems a little sharp. 'I'll fine fine in a bit, Momo. Off ya go. Tell Moody-fukutaicho and Shorty-chan I said hi, will ya?'

Momo smiles, wry. She should've known he wouldn't tell her anything. Well, he is a taicho, and can look after himself for a night. She has dinner with Izuru and Toshiro to look forward to. Perhaps one of those two will know what's up with her superior. She gives a short bow and darts away toward dinner. Shinji watches her go. His grin slips a bit, becoming something sly. His brown eyes cut toward home, not toward his office at all.

Shunpo is a _very_ different experience. He's vividly aware of himself in a way he normally never is - hyper-sensitive to the cloth against his skin, the way his clothes shift and rub and _confine_. His mouth is dry, his thin bottom lip is chewn to ribbons, and he's so achingly hard, he thinks the fabric might rip. The only solution is to throw himself on your tender mercy.

* * *

 

You're sprawled on the couch, a half-read report dangling from your fingers, feet jogging impatiently, when the front door opens. You jerk upright, nerves and excitement jangling your nerves like bells, but then you stop. You smile to the empty room, and deliberately lie back down, fanning yourself with the report. You're the picture of casual ease. Shinji won't believe it for half a second, but it's worth it, anyway.

He appears in the living room doorway, planting his hand on the frame and bracing himself. He'd look almost normal to anyone that didn't know him well. To you, he is a picture of repressed tension. His slender fingers are gripping the door too hard, knuckles white. His narrowed eyes are practically aglow with reishi and lust.

'Doll,' he says, a hint of a rasp in that Kansai-ben accent.

'Yes, honey?' you inquire sweetly, smiling at him, all innocence.

He swallows reflexively, Adam's apple bobbing in his long throat. He hooks finger in his cravat and tugs. A single day in your shoes - well, underwear- and he's in this much of a state. You'd almost feel pity, but there's too much amusement and desire taking up all the space. You drop the sugar-sweet act and sit up slowly, tossing the report aside and bracing your arms on your knees.

'Show me,' you order. He'll obey, if he wants the relief you can offer. His eye twitches, his teeth showing for a second in a frown. He's turned-on, embarrassed - a combination that makes you practically salivate. Shinji off-balance is a rare enough occurence that you know you have to savour it. 'Show me and I'll make it all better,' you purr.

His gaze drifts to your mouth, his pupils dilate, and almost imperceptibly, his breath hitches. He straightens to his full height, which isn't a lot though his white haori adds a little gravitas, and saunters over to the couch. Up close, you can feel the honey-gold heat of his regard. He smirks, embarrassment fading away before the opportunity to be a cheeky little shit. _God_ , you love him. He stands close, so you have a front row seat to the show.

He gives his obi a cursory yank. The first loop unravels in a whisper of silk. He pinches the trailing end between finger and thumb and draws it out, ever so slow, freeing the next loop. _Hell_. You lean back, indolent as a sun-warmed cat, eyes fixed bluntly on the show. When you do look up, his smile is sultry, cocky. His eyes are so narrow you can only see a hint of brown under his golden lashes. Devious bastard.

His obi falls away, and his hakama slip. Shinji unknots the ties at the front, letting them fall with soft _fwip fwip_ noises to trail on the floor. His fingers tremble over the knots at the back, because you're sitting right there, basically fucking him with your eyes and he's been on egde all day... The straps come free and the garment slithers down his legs, pooling around his feet in crumpled pleats.

 _Well, shit_. You fall back against the couch with a startled exhale. Your lips part.

' _Shinji_...' you say. Your voice is lower, smoky.

His kosode hangs open, covering only his arms, his back. His cravat hangs against naked skin, drawing your eyes down the length of his stomach, to the line of golden hair that dusts down to his pelvis. Who knew pink was his colour? Your underwear does look odd on him, but it works, somehow. It's your -and his- favourite pair. Cute, pale pink pinstripes, with a tiny silk bow on the front of the waistband, and layers of light ruffling to either side. He always purrs and spanks your ass when you wear them. Now it's his turn.

Your fingers dig slowly into the couch, rooting you to the spot. Under your ribs, your heart is racing, flushing blood to your face, your neck, between your thighs. The full length of his cock is starkly outlined, visibly straining against the material. He's painfully hard. There's a spot of damp, darker pink. Precum. He's so close, and you've barely even touched him yet. He can feel your gaze on him, and bites back a groan. He twitches against the silk.

' _Baby_ , please.'

Shinji Hirako, taicho of the fifth division of the Gotei 13, undressed for your inspection, wearing your underwear, begging for release. What a visual and verbal feast. You almost reach out, grasp him by the waist, but just one more thing.

'Did you like wearing them, Hirako-taicho?' you ask archly, looking up into his flushed, taut face.

He huffs, blowing out his heavy, angled bangs. 'Think the evidence speaks for itself, darlin'.'

You give in to your urge and reach for him. Sliding your hands down his sides, warm skin, soft ruffles, warm thighs, you curl your hands around the backs of his thighs and bring him a step closer. His chest rises and falls faster, as he begins to breathe hard. He needs something, anything. Your hands, your mouth, a stray fucking _breath_ and he'll come. He's been tormented all damn day. You hook your fingers in the waistband and draw them down slowly, revealing inches of skin and lean, boyish hips. He mutters a curse when his cock is finally freed from the tight confines. It bobs up to lie close to his stomach, a single vein standing out stark along the underside. His balls are drawn up tight against the base of his shaft, pent-up with frustration.

 _Damn_. You've only seen him this bad when he hasn't seen you for a week or more. A bead of come gleams at his tip. Enough teasing. Leaning forward, you press a kiss to the head of his cock, then slide your tongue out to swirl around the tip. Shinji hisses between his teeth. Long fingers curl into your hair, stroking it back from your face.

Edging your lips up over the very tip, you suck the first inch into your mouth, skimming your hands up the back of his thighs. The light, blonde hairs on his skin stir underneath your palms, and he shivers. A broken gasp leaves him as you bob your head down, dancing your tongue along the underside. You glance up. His gaze is heated, locked on your face. His eyebrows are drawn down, and even as you watch, his lip pulls back from his teeth, his jaw clenches.

He tastes of clean, salty skin and come, milky and a little bitter. It's an acquired taste, but one you enjoy for its connotations. You slide him all the way to the back of your mouth, folding your thumb into your fist to repress your gag reflex, and give a forceful suck. His stomach spasms, wringing a pained grunt out of him. He hunches over, bracing his hands on your shoulders. A day of sensual torment and frustration has eroded his stamina and your mouth is so warm, your tongue so dextrous. His hair sticks to his forehead and cheeks, his toes curl against the floor.

'Yer killin' me, babydoll...' Shinji's voice is husky, reverent. However much he complains, he'll only whimper if you stop.

A wordless hum is the only reply he gets, but it reverberates through him and makes him shudder.

' _Nn_...I ain't gonna last long if ya keep doin' that.'

You pull back, a thin string of saliva between your lips and the tip of his cock. He almost comes at the sight alone. 'Do you _want_ me to tease you, Shinji?'

He leers. 'Maybe later, sugar.'

You roll your eyes. _Typical Hirako_. The smug attitude falls away when you curl your fingers around the base of his cock and take him back into your mouth. He straightens up, smoothing back your hair. He can be thoughtful, when he wants. Your fingers move in synchronicity with your tongue, stroking, sucking. Your lover slides a little closer to the edge with every lash of your tongue against his oversensitive skin. He is all ache and heat, a tension growing at the base of his spine.

His head falls back, his pulse visibly throbbing at the base of his throat. He gulps, and exhales sharply. His hips rock into your touch, a low groan slipping out between his clenched teeth. Your underwear is stil tangled at his knees, and his kosode and haori are clinging to the sweat beading his back. You pull back until only the head rests inside your mouth, and suck hard.

'Shit, ya look so cute with my cock in yer mouth-'

The tip of your tongue presses into his slit. The bitter taste is stronger, and come pools on your tongue. Shinji hisses, cupping the back of your head. He likes it. With your free hand you alternated between stroking at the insides of his svelte thighs and gently cupping his balls. It's the latter that makes him start to tremble. Eyes closed, you shut out everything except the heat and weight of him inside your mouth, and the needy panting of his breath. Your head bobs up and down, sucking. If you work harder at it, you can slide him inside your throat. It's not a move you pull often, but the results are extraordinary when you do.  

' _____-chan_ , doll, _please_ -'

Your lips touch the base of his cock. Every withdrawal, you suck an urgent breath, only to sink back down, working him with your tongue.

'Have I told ya that I- _ah_ -love ya, doll? Cause-'

Whatever wisecrack he has planned is lost in a full-throated moan. Music to your ears. He twitches against your tongue, a tremor running through his lean frame. His head tilts back, gold hair swinging, nose scrunched and teeth flashing in a grimace. A ragged gasp. He comes, hot, vaguely metallic, indescribably _Shinji_. You swallow around him, the massaging of your throat merely increasing his pleasure. You release him slowly, discreetly wiping your mouth on the back of your wrist.

When Shinji raises his head, his fine features are flushed, his brown eyes bright and glittering, his smile sharp, sardonic, and sly. His voice is a little ragged. 'Yer a queen among women.' He stumbles to the couch on legs as unsteady as a newborn foal's, and drops down beside you. Absently, he peels your underwear off his legs and tosses it onto the pile of his hakama. He sprawls back, folding his arms behind his head. 'A goddess.'

'I know,' you agree easily, lying back so your head rests on his shoulder. He drapes an arm around your shoulders and nuzzles at your hair. You give his cravat, still lying on his naked chest, a playful tug. 'So, did you actually like wearing them?'

Shinji wrinkles his nose. 'The support was nice and all, but too tight. My ass is rubbed fuckin' raw.'

'Shinji...' you say, voice flat.

'Yeah, doll?' He's daydreamy, relaxed, close to drifting off with his cheek resting against the crown of your head.

'You're buying me new underwear.'


	24. Zaraki Kenpachi/Reader

A fine cloud of dust settled over the training field, over the large man sprawled face-first in the dirt, over your blood- and sweat-streaked skin. Every breath was a rasp, every twitch of your muscles was a stinging reminder of the cut lashing across the back of your calf. The nasty little bastard had caught you there just before he’d gone down. You’d kicked his ribs in retaliation, cracking at least two. Hopefully three. Just enough to make sure he had trouble breathing when he woke up. Two unseated shinigami waited on the sidelines, lazing about in the shade, ready to cart your opponent off to the fourth division. You hoped Unohana-taicho herself would see to him. That woman's aura of quiet menace was your inspiration.

You took a limping step forward and nudged his head with your toe. He groaned. _Still alive_. Good. It was too much hassle to have to replace the seated officers when they got mouthy with you.

‘I’m done with him,’ you called out to the lurkers. ‘Get him out of my sight.’

They lurched to their feet and came forward to claim their colleague, avoiding your eyes. Smart move. They picked up an arm each and dragged the third guy away, his feet trailing. Your mouth tasted of copper and dust, your throat was parched. You could use a bath and a bandage and a bottle of cold sake, in that order. Turning toward the barracks, you stopped short.

A huge figure sat on the wall, silhouetted against the afternoon sun. You had the impression of shoulders wide enough to hold up the sky, and a mane of ragged hair.

‘Where d’you think you’re going?’ it drawled. Its head tilted, sunlight and shadows shifted, and Kenpachi’s eye gleamed down at you. Something else gleamed too. His teeth, in a huge, lecherous smile, sharp as a blade. ‘You think you can beat the shit out of my sixth seat and walk away like that, little girl?’

See, anyone else in this situation would break out in a cold sweat and look for the closest available exit. That’s what a sane, rational person would do. A sane, rational person wouldn’t feel their knees weakening. A sane, rational person wouldn’t suddenly have to wonder if they were wet from sweat, or excitement. A sane, rational person wouldn’t lift their chin in defiance and say:

‘What are you going to do about it?’

It was like throwing a can of petrol on a forest fire, and about as sensible. Kenpachi vanished from his perch, gravity ceased to have any meaning, and your weary body was tossed into the air to land on his granite-hard shoulder. His hand clamped down on your ass, using it as a nice, comfortable handhold. The ground swayed sickeningly as he started toward your shared room.

Almost.  

‘Kenny, you need to turn left.’

A grunt, and he veered the right way, picking up the pace. You wriggled when his long, hard fingers started to curve down over your ass. ‘Kenny.’

‘What.’ His fingers delved between your legs, and found warm, damp cloth. An appreciative, gravelly chuckle grated through him, and he rubbed his calloused fingertips against you.

You squirmed, a shudder of pleasure shooting up your spine as he pressed down. Gripping his haori for support, you gasped out: ‘That’s not fair-’

‘So?’

His blunt dismissal was accompanied by an equally blunt fingertip pressing firm against your clit, massaging it in punishing little circles. Heat rushed to your face. The cloth trapped between his digit and your sensitive flesh provided the perfect amount of friction.

The main courtyard. He marched through it with you slung across his shoulder as though it was nothing of consequence. He could be a fisherman bringing in the catch of the day for all the surprise it caused. At this point in your relationship, it was a common sight. The off-duty shinigami filtered away toward other, quieter places to drink and roll dice.

The screaming was about to start.

'For the last time, I can _walk_ , Kenny.' You kicked at his stomach in protest.

Kenpachi didn't even grunt. He ducked under the doorway, and shoved the door. It screeched along its tracks and slammed into place with a deafening rattle and a _crunch._

'You're too slow.'

'You're gonna break the door-' you observed dryly, biting off the end of the sentence when a rough palm cracked across your ass, before Kenpachi gripped and squeezed the abused flesh. 'You like seeing me beat up your men, Kenny?' Your voice was breathless, strained.

He tossed you on the futon as his affirmative reply. His hulking form loomed over you, sprawled and vulnerable on your back as you were. Your heart beat hard, like a fist clenching and releasing, punching away behind your ribs. Your mouth dried out, and your tongue darted across your lips.

_What's his first move?_

There were two ways about it with Kenpachi. In the first, the mood struck him and he was all over you, hands, tongue, teeth, dick. There was no end and no beginning of where he was touching you, claiming you, and you had no recourse but to hang on until your own orgasm knocked you for six.

In the second method, he plotted. This was where he always surprised you. Kenpachi and surprises are a terrifying, exhilarating combination. He wasn't, despite whatever Kuchiki thought, a mindless brute who lived for violence and his own physical enjoyment. Well, he _was_ , but he certainly wasn't mindless.

His hands closed around your thighs, dragging you down the bed until your hips lay right on the edge. Your clothes were too confining. You needed naked air on your sweat-prickled skin. He knew. Of course. Your obi came apart in his hands like shredded paper - the layers of your clothes parted under him like mere cobwebs, brushed aside with negligence. Your underwear went flying, probably to be lost forever.

The air in the room was cool, electrified by his ever-leaking reiatsu. It chilled your skin, leaving swathes of goosebumps. Your breasts, bared, were tipped by hard, puckered nipples. Kenpachi pinched one between thumb and forefinger, tugging at it, rolling it, while he considered what to do with you. He had to do something, after seeing you go to town on his subordinate. Little pinpricks of pleasure and pain.

'Who're you calling slow?' you said, gasping when he pinched harder. 'I'm naked in case you haven't noticed.'

'I see that.' He let go.

You breathed out, only to inhale sharply when a long finger sank straight into your wet heat. No preamble. You were already soaked. Battle and serving sweet justice combined gave you a kind of satisfaction that was basically sexual. Hell, it was half the reason you were with Kenny. Your inner muscles clenched down, eager to have something filling you up. He pumped his finger in and out, coating the digit in your slick fluids, adding another. Your thighs tried to close around his hand, to keep it trapped at your pleasure. No dice. He shoved your knees aside, twisting his fingers to make you whimper. Would he add a third? _Please, one more._

'Haven't seen you this wet for a while,' he rasped, pulling out his fingers, ignoring your protests. Eyes fixed on yours, he dragged his tongue along his digits, sinking the tips into his mouth to suck away the remains of your flavour. 'Tastin' pretty good today. This what fighting does to you?'

'Kenny-'

'Get on your knees.'

 _Finally._ He was gonna bend you over and fuck you stupid, driving away the last of your adrenaline in a cacophony of shrieks and hard, thudding flesh. You rolled obediently onto all fours. Except, he wasn't undressing, not even loosening his hakama to let out his cock. Smack. The sharp impact of his hand against your ass made your inner muscles contract. You grunted, but leaned back for more. If he wanted to spank you first, then all the better. You could appreciate a little punish play, a little pain with your pleasure.

'Move forward.'

 _What?_ You were kneeling on the edge of the futon. You shuffled forward, impatient but intrigued. Only to stop and stare when Kenpachi stretched out on his back beside you, head on the pillow. _Is he taking a nap?_ you thought, incredulous. But, no. He grabbed the thigh closest to him and dragged it up and over. Either the world had gone crazy or you were straddling Kenpachi Zaraki's neck.

There was no time to ponder the strangeness of the situation. Kenpachi's hands closed on your hips, spanning them completely, jerked your pelvis forward, and lifted his chin. It was like heat lashing up your spine as his mouth pressed straight against the apex of your thighs. His tongue slid out to lap at the length of your slit, catching every drip of arousal from your fight, from his rough attentions.

'Kenpachi, what the hell-'

He squeezed your thighs, pressing you harder against his lashing tongue. _Goddamn._

' _Kenny._..' you gritted out, arms straining to hold yourself up, clutching at the tatami mats, leaving indents in your fingertips. Not for long. He manhandled you as easily as a child does a doll, pushing you up by your waist. On your knees now, you could have been sitting seiza at some poncy tea-ceremony. Except you had the head of the 11th division taicho between your thighs, glaring up at you, his tongue dragging slow over your clit.

So, not quite as formal as tea ceremony then.

The initial fervor for your taste abated, and he settled gleefully into a slow exploration that had your spine arching, your head drooping back. He kept you upright with his hands on your waist, skimming them up, callouses dragging over your skin, to strum his thumbs across your hardened nipples. The round-and-round the tip of his tongue made over your clit made you jerk with every pass. The cut on the back of your calf stung from your position. It hardly mattered.

'What-what brought this on...?' you gasped out, jerking when he pinched your nipples, tugging them forward. 'Shit...Kenpachi...'

'I felt like it.' His voice resonated up from the bed, up from between your thighs. His hands moved down, cupping your ass, bringing you back to his mouth to, ironically, shut you up.

'Is this my reward for taking down one of your men?'

He twisted his mouth to one side to speak. 'No. _This_ is.'

A finger, long and broad and scarred, slid inside you to the knuckle. Fuck. It twisted inside you. This way. That. Slid out halfway, only to slide back in. You were so wet there wasn't much resistance. Until he added a second finger, and curled them both inside you. Almost filling you. There was something about having his fingers inside you that drove you insane. Digits used to maim and kill and defend, used to penetrate the soft places in your body and bring you pleasure.

'Remind me to beat your subordinates more of-'

His thin lips closed around your clit in a sharp, powerful suck. Just enough to cut off your retort with a grunt from the back of your throat. You convulsed once, before he eased up into a slower motion. You reached down and took handfuls of coarse black hair, gripping tight. He didn't mind. He released your clit to lap up the dampness from where his fingers still pumped in and out of you. His tongue joined them, tracing around the outside of your entrance.

He didn't have many particular tastes, but this was one of them. Something uniquely you that couldn't be confused for anything else. Lewd slurping noises, loud in the near-empty room, and your sharp, urgent noises of pleasure. Your hips moved of their own accord, rubbing yourself on his tongue, riding his fingers. The heat in your lower half, the trembling tension of your thighs, the ache in your spine - they all told you how close you were. Kenpachi's free hand palmed one of your asscheeks, squeezing it hard, encouraging your debauchery. His tongue slid back to your clit.

That was it. You were a thread strung tight, threatening to snap. Your hips rocked of their own accord, grinding across his mouth, his tongue. His fingers still impaled you, scissoring apart, massaging, only making it easier for you to fuck his mouth. Low moans left your mouth, drowning out the wet sounds of Kenpachi's feasting. You pulled at his hair, fresh sweat running down your back, down the backs of your thighs. He was going to leave a hand-shaped bruise on your ass, and you'd wear it with pride.

_'Kenpachi!'_

Your orgasm hit like a freight train. You froze in the grip of a full-body shudder. Kenpachi jerked his fingers free, cupping your ass as he replaced them with his tongue. He wanted to taste from the very core, to feel you ripple and contract around him. The release of pressure relaxed your spine, liquified your bones. You curled forward, pressing a hand against the floor. Kenpachi couldn't complain. He was too busy kneading your ass, dragging the flat of his tongue in greedy swipes over the lips of your sex. One last taste. Savouring.

His version of aftercare became overkill. Oversensitive, overstimulated, you rolled off him, collapsing in a satisfied heap on your side of the futon. The sheets were cool. Bliss against your skin. Small aftershocks rippled through your frame. Kenpachi's hand landed on the small of your back, fingers digging in, rubbing out the last of the tension. You turned your head, ready to grin and thank him.

His mouth, his chin, half of his granite-carved cheeks were wet. From you. A flicker of post-orgasm shame at your own hedonism kindled, before being drenched by his jack-o-lantern grin.

'Did I say I was finished?' 

His hand curved down over your ass just as your eyes were widening. And his fingers slid right back where they belonged. Deep inside. Your head dropped to the pillow, face down, hips lifting with the rhythm of his hand. Your teeth clenched around a mouthful of pillow to muffle a whimper. It was going to be a long evening.


	25. Abarai Renji/Reader

Renji Abarai is sulking. To actually call it sulking would be an idiot move, and likely exacerbate the situation further. While usually relaxed and playful, there are odd moments where a comment that might often be dismissed as banter hit home, and his face darkens. His eyes lose their confident gleam, and he turns away. It always makes your stomach drop, and reminds you that Renji’s brash confidence is in fact a haphazard stack of cards.

Breathe the wrong way, and it crumbles.

Now, however, is not one of those times. Renji Abarai is sulking, not hurt. The reason he’s sulking...is because you won’t kiss him.

His hunched shoulders, folded arms, and sluggish reishi are all because you didn’t give him his “welcome home” kiss when he walked through the door. The reason? He’s literally drenched with sweat and caked in dirt, and you didn’t fancy getting damp stains on your brand new shirt. A gift from Orihime, down in the world of the living. It’s cute, and flattering, and probably the nicest thing you own.

Renji didn’t care to hear your reasons. He just wants that kiss, and he’s not going to cheer up until he gets it. It wouldn’t be so bad, you think, if he just wanted a peck. That would never be enough for him. He’ll want to pick you up, and very likely pin you down on the couch, getting hot and heavy to work off some of the residual adrenaline.

There’s no way your shirt will survive.

You poke through the cupboards, pushing aside bags of dry rice and beans, looking for something, anything sweet you can cobble together to brighten his mood and convince him to go take a shower. There’s no batter to make taiyaki, but there might be some mochi or something you bought and hid and forgot about.

You’re about to climb up on the counter to investigate the top shelf when Renji gets to his feet.

‘Babe?’ you ask, glancing over your shoulder.

‘I’m gonna shower,’ he mutters, before trudging off toward the bathroom. His shoulders, tan and tattooed and usually wide enough to support the world, droop forward. He barely lifts his feet from the ground.

It might almost make you feel sorry for him, if he wasn’t acting like such an enormous goof. A smile crosses your face, quickly suppressed in case he looks round. You wait until the bathroom door clicks shut with a decidedly affronted air before you snort.

What a dork.

There are two ways to deal with this. One, apologise and give him the kiss he wants. Two, change out of your new shirt, into something that will make his petulant mood vanish like smoke. Is there really a choice?

When you hear the patter of running water, you ease open his drawer and pull out one of his shirts. He has a few from the human world too. (Though you give the tie-dye one a wide berth.) The wide neck slips off one shoulder, the sleeves drape down your forearms, and the hem skims the middle of your -now bare- thighs. The cloth is worn soft from repeated wash and wear, and it still smells faintly of him.

You pull it to your nose and inhale deeply, smiling against the fabric. You’re lucky as hell, even if your boyfriend is sometimes a pouty brat. You putter around the kitchen and living room area, listening intently for the sound of the water shutting off. By the time it does, you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, itchy with anticipation.

Renji slouches out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam that is almost cinematic as it rolls out around him. Your mouth dries out. His hair is damp, loose, sticking to his neck, shoulders, chest. It naturally draws your eye down. His skin is beaded is still damp, a little flushed from the heat.

Tied precariously round his slim hips is a little white towel, barely covering his modesty. He strides out, oblivious to your doe-eyed gaze, and the towel splits around his taut thigh, revealing the edge of a firm buttcheek.

Oh, so he decided to get revenge.

Two can play at that game.

You edge into the kitchen, filling the kettle and putting it on to boil. Renji plops down on the couch, that skimpy towel riding up until you can see his hip bone. He is unconsciously gorgeous as he scrubs a hand through his hair, arm muscles bunching.

Your resolve crumbles like wet paper.

‘Abarai,’ you purr. ‘You know there are bigger towels in that bathroom.’ _Not that I’m complaining._

His eyes cut toward you, widen comically, then narrow, gleaming. ‘Is that my shirt?’

You pluck at the loose fabric. ‘Yep.’

He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. His abs bunch together, and its difficult to drag your eyes back up to his face. When you do, your knees turn to red bean paste.

‘Looks good on you.’ His voice should not be allowed to go that husky. His eyes linger on where the hem skims your thighs. On the hint of cleavage through the neckline.

Your pulse throbs. Renji’s eyes are the perfect bedroom eyes. Dark, and full of heat. Deliberately, you pull the neckline to your nose, conveniently revealing a few more inches of thigh. Inevitably, his eyes flicker down. His jaw clenches. You inhale deeply, then sigh with pleasure. ‘Smells like you.’

Renji’s eyes flash. His hands widen; he instinctively wants to reach for you, pull you in. Tough luck. You turn on your bare heel and strut toward the kitchenette, stretching your arms above your head. The hem of the shirt lifts above your -also bare- butt. There’s a strangled grunt from behind you. You reach for the tea canister with a smirk cutting across the lower half of your face. Poor Renji. Does he really think a little towel will break you?

You turn, smiling sweetly, about to ask if he wants a cup-

-his hands are on your waist, under the shirt, as he lifts you onto the counter. The tea canister and cups scatter like scolded children as his ‘welcome home’ peck turns into a back-bending, mind-numbing, toe-curling kiss that leaves you flat and dazed on the wooden kitchen counter. The shirt is pushed above your breasts and your legs are wrapped around his tattooed waist.

You grab a handful of wet, scarlet hair and lace your fingers through it. Renji groans at it tingles across his scalp and down his spine, and pulls his lips from yours. His breath is hot against your cheek as he leans round to bite and suck at the lobe of your ear.

‘You _minx_ ,’ he growls. You giggle as his fingers walk up the line of your sternum. His tongue laves at the dip below your ear. ‘Aren’t you gonna welcome me home?’

‘Welcome-- _home_!’ Your voice jumps several octaves as his fingers find your nipple and tug. Your stutter out his name: ‘R-Renji...’

His mouth follows his fingers, so his reply is rather muffled. His gaze smoulders up at you through fronds of fire-red hair. Inside the heat of his mouth, his tongue runs slick circles around your nipple, followed by a prolonged suck. The sensation creates a hollow ache in your gut, and you tighten your legs around him, cinching him closer. Renji’s eyes close as you press his towel-covered erection right against your core. He groans. The vibration travels through your nerves, makes your back arch to offer up more to him and his teasing mouth.

You can just about reach the knot tied at his hip. Your fingers tremble as you pull at it, eager to shed any last semblance of clothing between the pair of you. He leaves one breast with a nibble, and skims kisses across to the other. It receives the same treatment. The abandoned one cools damp in the air.

The knot comes free, and you pull. Your elbow jerks and sends a teacup to shatter on the floor. Renji releases you with a husky laugh and nudges the shards aside with his foot.

‘Don’t break all our china, babe.’

‘You chose to do this in the kitchen,’ you retort. Your cockiness fades fast when Renji pulls away from you--and crouches. His eyebrows wiggle at you from over the curve of your body, before he leans forward into the vee of your legs and drags the flat of his tongue right up the centre of your sex. He grasps your hips, holds them close on either side of his head, squeezing your soft flesh. He tilts his head, sliding his tongue against you, kissing like he would your mouth. ‘Renji...’ you manage to say. ‘Don’t eat off the counter.’

Renji’s face emerges from your thighs like a glorious red sunrise. His mouth twitches at the corners. ‘Was that a fucking _pun_?’

‘Yes, it was a _fucking_ pun,’ you say, putting a hand on the back of his head and pushing down. ‘Get back to work.’

He grins, eyes heating up. ‘Yes, madam.’

With your fingers tangled in his hair and one of your feet resting on a knocked-open drawer, Renji laps eagerly at your clit, swirling his tongue around it, sucking it into his mouth with hungry, needy sounds that arouse you almost as much as what he’s doing to you. He leans into his task, holding your thighs open wide and moving his head slowly from side to side until you think you’re gonna break from the hot, tingling pleasure.

Just as your thighs are starting to tremble, he straightens up. You shoot him the dirtiest look you can manage while lying on the kitchen counter like a steak. His mouth curves at the corners into his signature devilish smirk, one tattooed eyebrow quirks up. Your stomach flutters with an urgent combination of love and raw lust. You need to kiss the breath out of him. You need him to fuck you silly.

'Abarai, don't be a tease,' you say, breathless, running your hands up his chest to his neck. His pulse throbs against your palms as you pull him down and in for a kiss. He braces himself on the counter, adding the slick stroke of his tongue to your long list of things that are driving you absolutely crazy right now. Top of that list is the warm weight of his cock brushing along your inner-thigh. He presses his hips forwards, and the blunt tip nudges against the lips of your sex. You whimper into the kiss, hands gripping his shoulders. 'Hurry up.'

'Impatient, eh?' he purrs against your mouth, then nibbles your bottom lip. You feel his lips curve into a smirk the split second before he sweeps you off the counter and up into his arms. The air is chilly against your overheated skin as he stalks over to the couch, but then you're sinking down into it and a whole lot of warm, heavy man is there to sheild you from the cold. He strokes your legs open wide and settles into the cradle of your pelvis. His kisses land on your cheek, the side of your nose, your lips. He grasps the base of his cock, and presses forward.

Inch by inch, he slides in, back tense, weight-bearing arms trembling. He never gets tired of the feeling, of your snug, wet warmth wrapping around him as he joins your bodies together. You dig your heels into the back of his thighs, encouraging him. The slow penetration has caught up the unravelled threads of your orgasm, and every thrust begins to weave them back together.

He's greedy. His mouth is on your neck, feeling the buzz of every moan as it passes through your throat, his hands are on your left breast and in your hair, his legs are tangled with yours. He wants to feel every inch of you against him, around him. He groans with approval when you tug at his hair. _Faster. Move faster._ Because your legs are twined tight around him, keeping the pair of you locked into the frantic back and forth that drives you both higher. His staying power has always been good, but you had to wear his shirt and parade around in it. The soft, worn cloth on your naked skin has frayed his self-restraint.

'____...' Your name falls from his mouth, heavy with desire. You cup his jaw and bring his lips to yours. There's more than a slight impression of teeth in the kiss. Sweat beads on his skin, presses onto yours. You run your hands down his back, over his skin, still dewy from the shower, now from exertion. His muscles flex against your palms with every rock of his hips, and a corresponding pulse of pleasure flares between your legs. He grasps one hip, dragging it up. Suddenly your clit is pressed hard against his pelvic bone, and every thrust massages it, pleasuring you inside and out.

Your moan breaks halfway out of your throat, turning into a gasp. ' _Renji...'_

His free hand circles round to the nape of your neck, tilting your head back so your eyes meet his. _Hells_. His gaze is heavy-lidded, his eyes dark and focused. He knows exactly what he's doing. He wants you to lose yourself first. The game never ended. The dawning suspicion on your face is answered by a mischievous quirk to his lips, revealing a canine. _Jerk_. Sexy, sneaky _bastard._ Your annoyance and suspicion fragment, dissolve. Your nerves are on fire and his hard, grinding pace isn't helping at all.

You whimper. A sound that only ever leaves your mouth when you're underneath him. His smirk widens. Renji lowers his head so his nose brushes yours. 'Come for me, ____.'

Your body knows you better than your mind, and uses that precise moment to unleash the pressure that's been coalescing in the pit of your stomach. Your toes curl hard into the soles of your feet. You shudder, and tighten up around the smirking fukutaicho, your inner walls rippling around him, waves of pleasure washing through your slackening limbs. Your hands fall from him, lying limp against the couch, your eyes sliding shut as everything unwinds. Bliss.

Kisses along the edge of your jaw. A low huff of laughter. A flicker of tongue. Your eyes snap open. Renji is still above you.

'Maybe you should just kiss me next time, huh?'

'That's my favourite shirt. You're so childish,' you complain, waiting for him to roll off you. 'We're both gonna need a shower now.'

His eyes brighten. 'Maybe after.'

'After?'

His body shifts over yours, in yours. He's still hard. Still throbbing inside you. You were so caught up in your own release you hadn't even noticed his lack of one. His cock twitches, setting off a stinging pleasure in your oversensitive nerves, and he draws back, only to slide right back in. Your knees fold up, your feet resting on the small of his back as lust coils up inside you again, ready for another go.

'Best three out of five?' he suggests, leaning down.

You'd reply, but his tongue is already in your mouth, sliding against your own, muffling your small, urgent whimpers. So much for evening plans.

_Welcome home, Renji._


	26. Ayasegawa Yumichika/Reader

The old adage that words will never hurt you is a false one. Words falling from careless lips can create scars down to the bone. You know that well enough. Walking from your room in the barracks to Abarai-fukutaicho’s office, or even just heading to your duties, you can feel the whispers nipping at your heels like stray dogs. 

The wooden walkway beneath your feet seems to creak twice as loud with every step. There are two female shinigami up ahead, heads bent together, looking the other way.

The veranda squeals under your feet. You forgot to skip over the loose board on the corner. The women turn. Their eyes are opaque and unfriendly as they look you up and down, then turn away. Your face burns. You walk past, pulse racing. Prickles run down your back.

A muffled whisper. A giggle. 

Steel bands lock around your chest and make it difficult to breathe. Your heart pounds. Your legs are unsteady as you walk away from them. It’s been going on for months. Visiting the 11th division is the only reprieve you get. Even alone in your room at night, you can hear people gossiping as they walk past your door. 

Before this, you had little trouble. In truth, you’ve never had much of a presence at all. Your superiors notice you only when they want something, and those of lower rank only spoke to you when entirely necessary. Not unpopular, per se, just unremarkable.

Which makes it all the more astonishing, you think, walking toward the sixth division gates, that someone like Yumichika would pay you the slightest bit of attention. You walk, teeth clenched, past the snickering shinigami pulling guard duty at the gates. 

‘Have fun, ____-san,’ one of them calls after you. Your shoulders stiffen, but you keep going. There’s no point turning around and engaging them in conversation. It’ll just validate them by giving them attention. That’s what you tell yourself. Truthfully, you just don’t trust yourself not to start crying if you get into a confrontation. 

You’re better than this. Normally. But day after day for the past three months, you’ve been dogged by rumours and sly, disbelieving glances. It all centres around the same two things:

_‘She’s dating someone from the 11th? Doesn’t she have any taste?’_

_‘That’s the one Ayasegawa-san is dating? Doesn’t he normally go for something a bit more_ …special _?’_

Some of the heavy stares lift from your back as you leave the sixth division area and cross through the seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, toward the eleventh. You’re no longer fifth-seat of the sixth division. You’re simply another shinigami going about your business after day duties. Every step toward Yumichika’s quarters creates another knot in your stomach. What if today is the day he decides he doesn’t want you any more? The whispers will only gain a nasty new edge. They’ll all be vindicated.

You’re confronted by a blank slab of door, and give it a hesitant knock.

It opens. Yumichika leans against the doorjamb, frowning. Your stomach turns over, uneasy. Fingers brush down the side of your cheek. ‘You don’t look happy to see me,’ he says. ‘And I _just_ washed my hair.’

If there is one thing you can count on, it’s Yumichika’s vanity. You snort, some of the day’s tension melting away. ‘I am happy to see you, but it’s been a long day.’

‘Mm, I can tell. Come inside where all those ugly people can’t see your pretty face.’ He slips an arm around your waist and draws you into his quarters with surprising strength. The world spins and your back is up against the wall and a purring fifth-seat presses against your front. Hands plant on the wall either side of your ribs, penning you in. 

Lips press against your throat, kissing, teeth nibbling. By reflex, you cup the back of his head. His hair is cool, still damp from the washing. It smells like citrus and something floral, heady. 

‘Yumi-’

Your cheeks warm, pleased, as he sighs and slides his hands possessively up your sides. His kisses decorate the underside of your jaw, the ticklish skin below your ear, his teeth nibble your earlobe. Your eyes close. You can enjoy this.

 _‘Doesn’t he normally go for something a bit more_ …special _?’_

Your fingers dig into Yumichika’s hair. _Don’t think about it._ His fingers are in the knot of your obi, untying it with deft motions. He’s leaving an open-mouthed kiss high on the side of your neck. 

Giggles, whispers.

‘Yumichika.’

Your tone makes him pause and lean back, eyebrow raised. ‘What’s wrong?’

Shit. Are you really going to bring this up now? You’re supposed to be tumbling down somewhere soft with your boyfriend, working away the stresses of the day. Surely you’re just imagining half of it. You’re paranoid. He’ll scoff at you… ‘Do you think… Am I good enough for you, Yumichika?’

The question throws him. His thumb makes an idle, tingling sweep along your bottom lip as he considers it, suspicious. ‘Why are you asking?’ 

You look at the wood-panels of the opposite wall over his shoulder. You can’t meet his eyes. ‘I’m just wondering.’   

Elegant hands cup your face, calloused thumbs resting against your cheeks. ‘No, you’re not “just wondering”.’ Violet eyes search yours, sharp and shrewd. ‘You’ve been looking miserable since I opened the door. Tell me what it is. I don’t like seeing you unhappy.’

Shame burns in your chest. ‘It’s noth-’

He clasps the back of your head, follows it with a delicate, devouring kiss. You gasp, fingers scrabbling against the back of his shihakusho. Your eyes flutter shut, heart leaping. _Hell_ , Yumichika… He releases you with a groan. ‘Who do I have to kill?’ 

He means it, too. He’ll gleefully cut anyone who insults you. He _chose_  to be fifth-seat for aesthetic reasons. He’s a sharp, pretty smile and a sharper, prettier blade. He’s exhilarating.

‘It’s just gossip,’ you assure him, plucking at the back of his shirt. ‘Nothing to worry about. Hey, where are you taking me?’

His grip on your wrist doesn’t hurt, but nonetheless you can’t break it. He draws you further into his room. He’s unusually tidy for the eleventh division. His futon is out, but made. Bottles cover his vanity table in neat rows. Fuji Kujaku rests on a polished stand beneath the window.  None of this matters, however, because he hooks his foot behind your ankle and sends you sprawling onto the futon. 

‘Let me show you just how “good enough” for me you are,’ he says. His voice is even, but there’s a glint in his eyes. He sinks to his knees, and prowls over you. The braid in his hair slides across your collarbones as he leans down to kiss you, his tongue slipping between your open lips to stroke against yours. His weight settles on you, lean, but solid and satisfying. 

The tips of his fingers sift through your hair, combing it away from your forehead as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. His sigh vibrates through your chest, and a firm thigh pushes between yours. It presses against you, sending tingles of friction through you every time Yumichika moves. He shifts over you to get his mouth at the perfect angles to yours, languid as a sun-warmed cat.

For someone who’s often compared to a peacock, there’s definitely something a little _feline_ about him. You gasp for breath when he finally pulls his mouth from yours. He nuzzles your head to the side, silky blue-black hair tickling your cheek. 

’ _Yumichika._..' 

'Mm, quiet, gorgeous,’ he orders, playful. 'I’m enjoying you.’

'Enjoying me,’ you ask as his tongue strokes across the thin skin of your throat, 'or _eating_ me?’

'Well, if you taste as good as you look…’ 

You feel the telltale tugs as he unwinds your obi, followed by the cool brush of air on your bare skin. He sits on his haunches, running appreciative eyes down your torso. Two fingers trail down the line of your sternum, stopping at the waist of your hakama. 'Hmm, _beautiful_.’

He isn’t finished there. The ties of your hakama fall victim next, and he tugs the pleated black cloth away, leaving it in a crumpled heap beside the futon. His gaze heats as it drags down your body, lingering on your neck, your chest, the curve of your hips. ‘How do you live with yourself,’ he asks, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, ‘hiding such beauty from me, day after day, under that dull uniform? It’s criminal’

‘It’s standard regulation.’ You giggle, lifting your hips so he can whisk away that last vestige of cloth. Tossed aside with a flourish. His blunt compliments are doing their work. Your mouth twitches; an abashed grin, accompanied by butterflies skittering around your stomach and a blush that darkens your skin all the way down to your breasts. How did you ever doubt him? ‘My taicho is stricter than yours.’

‘Hmph.’ He picks up your leg and drapes it over his shoulder, laying your body bare for his appreciative eyes. A sly finger trails titillating circles on your inner thigh. ‘You’re much prettier like this. And only I can see you.’ He lowers your leg to the bed and leans over you, planting a hand by your head, voice dropping into honeyed tones. ‘Anyone that doesn’t appreciate your beauty is too blinded by their own ugliness.’ He smirks, mouth hovering an inch above your nipple. His breath is warm, making the bud stiffen. ‘Being so good looking myself, I’m not hindered like that.’

A deft stroke of slick tongue, and his lips wrap around your nipple. It tugs at a nerve that runs right down to your core. Excitement gathers damp between your thighs, and the prolonged pulling of his mouth makes you squirm. His fingertips walk up your stomach to your other breast, and pinch the other nipple until you squeak. He’s so tempted to dive right in, but his girl needs some worshipping, and he’s the man to do it.

He groans quietly around the sensitive flesh in his mouth, laving it with his tongue until your back arches, offering yourself up. He notes the darkening of your face, which is flushed with pleasure. _So beautiful._ Better than the wan expression you’d first worn. Your fingers tangle in the folds of the bedding, a whimper rising in the back of your throat. The sensation is a tease, not a fulfilment. 

‘Yumichika-’ Just as you’re about to protest the overstimulation, he breaks off with a _pop._ He paints your stomach in kisses, fingers stroking down your sides. His hair falls over his ears, tickling over your skin. He murmurs praise under his breath, pausing to suck at the flesh of your hip. There’ll be a lovebite there tomorrow. A memory of his presence. ‘ _Yumichika_ …’ Your voice is rich with growing desire. Your toes curl as he grasps your thighs and eases them open. His path of kisses diverts. You mewl, frustrated.

A devious chuckle hums against your inner thigh, and his eyes slant toward your face. ‘My pretty girl’s getting a little demanding…’ His lips part and his tongue smooths over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, sending tingles right up to your core. If only he’d do that again, just a little bit higher. You just need something on your clit. Anything. 

Too bad. Yumichika delights in every squeak and needy whimper he can wring out of you. Every kiss and caress serves to wipe away the memories of your gossiping colleagues. How did you ever think their opinion matters more than his? By the time he’s moved to the crook of your thigh, you’re fidgeting, hips rocking. 

Yumichika spreads your legs wider, tilts his head, admiring the glistening pink of your folds as they’re revealed. All that beauty, just for him. He groans, grasps your hips, and pulls you against his mouth. Your moan echoed through the room, your head canting back on the pillow. ‘ _Yes…’_

His tongue works energetically against your clit, sending bolts of pleasure through you. He sucks, and it’s like he’s drawing the breath out of you. You moan, sharp and high, muscles tensing with a particularly hard pull of his greedy mouth. He releases you, panting. His voice has an edge to it, sultry and _hungry_. ‘Sorry, gorgeous. I got a little carried away.’

The slick heat of his tongue makes long, slow sweeps along the length of your slit, tasting every inch of you. Deftly avoiding the bundle of nerves he just assaulted. _Tease_. His hands roam across your thighs, hips, stomach, and breasts as he tastes you, caressing every inch of you he can reach. Warm tingles build under your skin, between your legs. Finally, his tongue flickers over your clit. You give a soft, passionate moan, feet shifting across the bed.

He raises his head. ‘Look at me, beautiful.’

Dizzy, you raise yourself on your elbows, looking down at him. At his hair splayed across your thighs, his hands laid possessively on your skin, at his eyes - a molten shade of violet, made dark by his wide, dark pupils. He groans at the sight of your face and fixes his mouth on your clit. You gasp, and start to close your eyes. He stops. ‘Yumi-’

‘I said, _look_   _at me.’_

 _Oh, god._ He’s going to make you watch him.

His face is beautiful, especially pressed between your legs. His finely-shaped lips wrap around your clit, a flush on his high, pale cheeks as he alternates licking and sucking. His fingers clench on your waist, keeping you still, gripping you like a man starved. His eyes never waver from yours. You could swear you can see the beating of his heart in his pupils, pulsing in time. It’s hypnotic, along with the steady, mounting pleasure. You want to throw back your head, moan and writhe, but you have to maintain eye contact. You can’t look away. You can scarcely breathe.

Finally, he gives a hard suck, his eyes closing, black lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. Spell broken. You drop and arch, hips bucking. He contains your writhing with ease, humming around your swollen clit. 

‘Yumi _chika!_ ’ 

His name comes out, punctuated by moans. The string that’s been twisted tight inside you _snaps_  and warm pleasure rushes through your twitching muscles. Soft, gentle licking eases you down from your high as you settle against the futon, which suddenly feels as soft as down. Your mind is fuddled, riding a cotton-candy high while you try to catch your breath.

A warm body settles beside yours, still clothed. Fingers peel your hair from your forehead. You glisten with sweat. ‘You’re _glowing_ ,’ Yumichika purrs in approval, his finger tracing down the line of your neck. ‘I like you best like this. It brings me so much pleasure…’

You find your breath. ‘It brings _you_  pleasure?’ you ask, incredulous.

‘Mm-hm.’ That same finger trails down over your collarbone, along the curve of your breast. ‘Which is exactly what I’m going to give to you.’

You turn your head, startled. His gaze is lazy, half-lidded, oddly predatory for such a narcissist. ‘But, you already…’

Slender, calloused fingers tug at your nipple. Yumichika’s pretty mouth curves into a sharp smile. 

‘I was just getting started.’


	27. Muguruma Kensei/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little something different. Pining/masturbation fic.

The shower is exactly the kind of place he shouldn’t linger. The white walls and running water make his mind wander.

Kensei Muguruma isn’t the kind of man who likes to indulge himself. He wakes up early every morning, makes himself breakfast, works out, showers, gets dressed and heads into his office. The sun is usually only just risen by the time he walks in to find a sleepy-eyed Hisagi staring listlessly at a pile of reports, waiting for the caffeine to kick in. Kensei’s got his routine down. He’s not someone who sits around daydreaming, or wasting daylight. He doesn’t throw a tantrum when he can’t get what he wants. He acts like an adult,  _like a taicho_ , and gets on with his job.

So, it really pisses him off when you won’t  _get out of his head._

It’s been a long day. He can tell from the ache running across his shoulders despite the shower spray pounding across his muscles. He had to see you not once, but twice. Out in the daylight, hair gleaming, eyes drinking in the sun, practically glowing, skin burnished. You’d been smiling at someone. Not him. He’d wanted you to smile at him, but the moment he passed, your head lowered in a polite bob.

 _‘Muguruma-taicho.’_ The memory of your voice seems to echo in the small shower cubicle. He grumbles, rubbing a hand through his hair. His mind twists the tone of your voice into a purr, making it say something you’ve never said. ‘ _Kensei…’_

Kensei grunts, irritated. He thinks about training schedules, about the front-page layout for the next issue of _Seireitei Communication_ , about what to cook for dinner. Anything other than imagining your quiet laugh as you slip into the shower with him, about your breasts pressing into his back, about your phantom hands creeping over his shoulders to slide down his chest. Your mouth against the side of his neck…

Kensei’s eyes snap open. Goddamn it. You’re not interested in him. You barely know him. And yet he’s been looking out for glimpses of you ever since he first ran across you. You’re like a good omen, a sign of a good day. The shower running down his skin catches his attention, and immediately, he thinks about it running down yours. Down your neck, over your breasts and stomach, between your thighs. About bending down and catching a stray droplet with his tongue, following its trail back up your body while you stare at him with heated eyes.

‘ _Fuck_.’ The word is both a curse and a wish. He’s already half-hard. He braces a hand on the wall as a combination of dizziness and desire overwhelm him. He reaches for the dial and twists it to biting cold. Bullets of ice striking down his back. He shivers, air hissing between his teeth, and waits for the problem to go away.

_‘Are you cold, Kensei? Let me warm you up…’_

When did he get so imaginative that he can make your voice say such cheesy lines? But hell, they’re working. The cold water does nothing. He’s still replaying that image of water running between your thighs. He could follow it with his mouth. Press your back up against the cool tiles and feel your shiver. Kneel in the shallow water on the floor of the shower and run his hands up your thighs. Watch you smirk at him and meet it with one of his own as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, tilts his head back, and-

He groans, tongue moving restlessly in his mouth as he imagines your taste. Covered in goose-bumps, he switches the shower back to warm. To hot, even. He can’t just will this away. He runs his hand down over his muscled abdomen and grasps the base of his dick. It hardens further from the contact. He finishes the process with a few firm strokes.

He pictures the way you tense when his mouth finally makes contact with your slick folds, and the soft, urgent noise that leaves your mouth. His stomach tightens at the image. He’ll drag his tongue over your clit until your legs shake, until he has to hold you up lest you fall. And then he’ll take the small bundle of nerves into his mouth and _suck_ until your cry of pleasure ricochets through the bathroom.

‘ _Yes_ …’ he growls, squeezing his hand in a tight fist. He braces his arm on the wall, resting his head on it. Eyes closed. The better to picture your hands tugging at his hair as you beg for him to let up, as every drag of his tongue makes your oversensitive body twitch. He’ll pick you up by your waist and wrap your legs around his hips, lowering you onto his length. His hand clenches tighter as he imagines the slick, snug heat of as you slide down around him.

 _That’s it, baby._ These are images he’s replayed to himself a hundred times or more. He’ll pin you to the wall, your arms around his neck, and take you in slow, _deep_ thrusts. All the better to enjoy pressing every inch of himself into you, again and again. Alone in his shower, Kensei moves his hand in a mimicry of that taking. He’s breathing heavy, teeth gritted. God, he just wants to feel you. Hear you. Taste you as you moan into his mouth.

A heat gathers at the bottom of his spine, making him feel hollow. He’s sweating in the small, steamy space, almost panting. _You_. You’re such a distraction, and you don’t even know it. His cock throbs, his stomach tightens. He’ll adjust himself to play with your clit while he screws you nice and deep against the shower wall, happily bearing the scratches you leave down his hard back. He’ll wear them like badges of pride.

He’ll only let himself go when he hears your moans go high, your inner walls tightening around him. Kensei tightens and releases his fist and he pumps himself, just to get that feeling. His thighs shake. He moans aloud, cursing when release finally surges through him.

He stays there leaning on the wall for a few minutes, spent. He’s still thinking about you. He’ll lower you to your feet and wash you, then scoop you up and take you off to bed for another round, then sleep against your back, feeling you soften and relax in his arms.

‘Damn it,’ he says aloud, straightening. The evidence of his self-indulgence has already been washed away. He reaches for the soap. _I’ve really got to ask her out._


	28. Kuchiki Byakuya/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait for a new chapter. I got my BA in Creative Writing with First Class Honours so I was celebrating by not writing at all. Didn't last very long! And thank you 1000 times to everyone who has left kudos, left comments, bookmarked, and read Sex in the Seireitei. There is so much more to come.

Byakuya Kuchiki is the 28th head of the noble Kuchiki clan and taicho of the sixth division of the Gotei 13. He is not about to be defeated by a sheer black stocking. It’s the lace band around the top of the stocking that’s going to destroy him.

It’s early evening. The sun has already sunken behind the seireitei roofs, leaving the sky a gradient of pale blue to violet. The Spring air is crisp and cool, carrying with it the fleeting perfume from the sakura trees in the garden.

As per his routine, Byakuya sits at the desk in his study, completing a few non-taicho chores: letters to other noble families, orders to keep the estate running, bills to be paid. The work of a noble taicho doesn’t end the moment he steps into the foyer and shrugs off his white haori.

Which is why the sight of you lounging on the chaise in just a kosode is so poorly timed. In his mind, at least. You, however, are quite tired of having an exhausted Byakuya crawl straight into bed, give you a perfunctory kiss, then turn over and fall asleep. Your husband needs a night off and you intend to see that he gets it. Whether he wants it or not. Your dreams have been warm and sensual lately, imagining all the things on which you’re missing out. Perhaps you’ve got a little Spring fever, too.

The bait is simple, elegant. Perfectly tailored to a man like Byakuya. You’ve arranged yourself on the chaise with a book in hand, your hair twisted up off your neck, inviting his gaze. Tempting his mouth. Byakuya’s lingering eyes made your skin tingle when he entered the room after dinner. He’s a sucker for your throat. Your legs.

The rustling of paper as he sets himself up to do the accounts is your cue. You cross one leg over the other. The front of the kosode, the shade of cherry blossoms, eagerly splits open to the hip, revealing your entire right leg and the expensive new stockings you purchased for just this occasion. You knew the second you saw them, what power they held. The garment seems happy to collude with you to bring down Kuchiki. You sigh, drawing his attention, and shift, as though making yourself more comfortable.

Your eyes never leave the book. You haven’t taken in a single word.

The silence in the room is profound. The level of reishi spikes, before he tightly reins it in again. Hidden from his line of sight, a slow, wicked smile curves across your lips.  _Oh, Byakuya._  A few minutes pass. You must let him sink back into the paperwork, lull him into a false sense of security. You chuckle, as though you’ve just read something amusing, turn another page, and let your leg slip to the floor, swinging back and forth in lazy, unconscious motions.

The scratching of his pen freezes.

‘Is your novel interesting?’ His tone is restrained. Cool. He’s trying to pretend you aren’t doing what you’re doing. ‘You seem to be enjoying it.’

You glance over your shoulder, tendrils of hair slipping free from your bun. Byakuya’s pen is forgotten in his hand, his gaze fixed carefully on your face. You stretch your leg, toes wriggling. His eyes flicker. Darken. A peacock crows from the garden, as though in victory.

_Got you._

He exhales through his nose, and composes himself. The grip on his pen deliberately relaxes and he lifts his wrist to add another row of characters to his letter. His motions are as graceful and precise as a bird in flight. Only the narrowing of his eyes betrays him.

He's ignoring you. It's his only defence against the taut flexing and relaxing of your thigh and calf muscles as your leg swings from the chaise. Anticipation makes your skin goosebump, makes the tips of your breast tighten under your robe. You turn a page with perfect nonchalance, then sit up straight and arch your back to work out an imaginary kink, settling back with a contented sigh.

The sound of writing has frozen behind you once again.

'____.'

Glancing over your shoulder, you raise an eyebrow. Perfect innocence. 'Byakuya?'

His handsome, patrician features are composed, his tone even. All that gives him away is the eyes: from slate grey to the colour of stormclouds. The sudden crackle of reishi backs up the metaphor. 'Are you well? You seem...restless, this evening.'

You twist around on the chaise to face him fully. The kosode inches down your shoulder, on the verge of falling off. By this time it's merely an idea of a modest garment, a suggestion. But it's the hint that works for Byakuya: the sliver of skin, rather than the full naked figure. The subtle flirtation, rather than the blunt come-on.

'I'm just fine,’ you say. You close the book, marking your page with a finger. You tilt your head, all false concern. ‘I should be asking that of you. You seem a little... _agitated_.’ 

On the last word, your voice drops into a suggestive purr. Byakuya’s eyes flare. His knuckles turn white around his pen, before he forces his grip to relax. ‘I am nothing of the sort. I have work to do.’

‘As you like,’ you say with a nonchalant shrug, turning back to your book. You wait. You can feel his gaze on your back. He didn’t expect you to give in so quickly. Perhaps even hoped for a little persistence. Then he could capitulate, and still keep his dignity. ‘If I’m bothering you, I’ll go and read in bed.’

‘You’re not bothering me.’ His tone is soft, edged with affection. ‘I enjoy your company.’

You press your lips together to contain your smile. Sometimes your husband blind-sides you like that. His aloof facade drops, and you’re left with the quietly intense man you married. You sigh, setting the book to one side. He’s torn through all your dastardly plans in eight simple words. Getting to your feet, you pull open the front of your robe and let it slither off your shoulders to pool on the couch.

Byakuya looks up. His eyebrows rise, and his gaze lowers, moving over your figure. Of course you bought matching lingerie. He finally puts the pen down, leaning back in his chair to watch your approach.

‘So this is your game?’

You reach for his face, cupping it in both hands and leaning your forehead against his. ‘Playing was fun but you’re too good at it. Come and spend some time with me, Byakuya. I checked with Renji and there’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.’

A hand glides up your side, feather-light. Byakuya sighs, head tilting. His nose nudges alongside yours, your lips meet, and you  _sink_  into him. The hand’s twin trails up the back of your thigh. Desire shoots through you, hot and sudden and searing.  _It’s been a while..._

‘Byakuya...’

‘I wouldn’t want to dishonour your efforts.’

You lean back a fraction to look at his face. His gaze is warm, the perpetual stiff frown melted away. He strokes circles into the back of your thigh, then slides a finger under the lace top of your stocking. 

‘If you are absolutely  _certain_  there was nothing else that needed my attention.’

‘I am.’

‘Hm, I should have noticed that it was  _you_  that required my attention.’

‘Better late than never.’

Byakuya rises from his seat, hands ghosting up your sides. You tilt your head back to keep his gaze. It’s so startling, to go from receiving the dregs of his attention, to getting  _all_ of it. About time. You run your hands up the front of his robes to cup the back of his neck, urging him. He smiles, very faint, and then that smile is against your mouth. You sigh as warmth frissons through you, turning your blood to honey: sweet, slow, golden. The arm around your waist goes from loosely draped into a securing band. Wind rushes, the world tilts, and the ground is suddenly a soft, deep mattress.

‘Show-off,’ you murmur, opening your eyes to the dim, cool light of the bedroom.

The low chuckle near your ear sends shivers shooting down your spine. You’ve unlocked his warm, playful side, and you’re about to reap the benefits of it. Hair trails across your skin, followed by kisses. Across your jaw, down your neck. You reach to curl your fingers in his hair, but the hard ridges of the kenseikan dig into your palm. Byakuya holds still as you work the catches and slip them free, putting them on the bedside table. His hair falls loose about his face, softening it. He looks younger, warmer. Kuchiki-taicho has been left behind with the white haori. Byakuya is the one leaving kisses down your stomach.

He caresses the lines of your body, as though committing them to memory once again. His fingers trail down your ribs; your breath hitches. His breath puffs against your skin. He’s teasing you. He makes quick work of your bra. Its job as decoration is finished – now he wants to see bare skin. Your nipples tighten in the cool air, luring him. The backs of his fingers brush over them in a slow, deliberate caress that jolts through your nerves.

‘ _Byakuya_.’ You push yourself harder into his hands. Wanting, needing more.

‘Patience.’

_Tease._

A sly fingertip strokes over your slit through the silk of your underwear. Once, twice. Enough to make your hips twitch and a gasp catch in your throat. He raises his gaze to yours; his smile, however slight, still manages to reach his eyes, which darken and burn. Flattening his hand, he slides it under your waistband and  _down_ , to cup you fully.

His palm is cool against your scorching flesh, contrasted with the heat of his mouth which suddenly engulfs the tip of your breast. A light suck, and a deft finger slips between your folds to glide over your clit. A soft moan breaks free, mixing with the bedroom hymn of rustling cloth and your lover’s quiet hum of satisfaction. His fingers and his tongue move in tandem, tracing slick circles across your sweet spots, stirring the heat that is growing inside you.

He gives a harder suck, sighing through his nose, and creates a hollow ache in your core. You’re already pulsing with need. His name tumbles from your lips in a whine, but he doesn’t cease or increase his actions. Byakuya’s meticulous. He strokes you higher and higher, using only the barest movements. He’s still fully-dressed, fully-composed.

That irritates you a little. Bold, you brush the hair back off his face, then reach for the front of his shihakusho. He sits up, out of your reach, hands resting on his knees in perfect, annoying seiza.

‘Behave, or I’ll stop.’ His tone lacks the coldness of command. He’s  _enjoying_  this.  _Pompous ass._

‘That’s just cruel.’

‘Those are my terms.’ His dark grey eyes glitter.

You sigh, giving him a petulant nudge with your knee. He can be a pain in the neck sometimes, when he puts his stiff formality aside and gets it into his head to be a tease. Byakuya Kuchiki’s sense of humour is odd, and buried deep, but it’s very much there. You generally bear the brunt of it. Whether it’s Admiral Seaweed jokes or testing your patience in the sheets, you’re glad to experience it. ‘All right, I’ll behave,’ you vow.  _For now._

‘I’ll hold you to that.’

He doesn’t feel the need to chastise you any further, for which you are grateful. You welcome him back with open arms as he settles over your body. Long, drugging kisses that leave you breathing hard and boneless. He’s slow and methodical, but gifted. Every slant of his lips against yours, every elegant sweep of his tongue frays at your self-control. Curling your fingers tight into the sheets, you cede to him. His hand skims down your stomach, back into your underwear. His mouth returns to your breast. Air hisses between your teeth as the delicate assault sets your nerves to throbbing.

His hand twists, his thumb takes over the slow rubbing of your clit, applying more pressure, and two long, thin fingers sink inside you to the knuckle. Slow stroking, slow sucking...he’s winding you up like a music box, and he can’t wait to hear you sing. The pleasure builds on itself, layer after layer. Your thighs tremble, clenched around his hand, desperate to keep him right there. It’s too much. You need something to cling to. You sling your arms around him, heedless of whether he considers it misbehaving or not, grasp at his robe, his hair.

Your nipple slips from his mouth, left damp in the cool bedroom air. His breath purls against your neck, followed by soft, chaste kisses. Your moans vibrate against his lips. He smiles. His voice purrs into your ear.

‘Don’t restrain yourself.’

He leans over you, watching your face with dark, avid eyes. He wants to watch your pleasure unfold. He doesn’t need to wait long. The come-hither motions of his fingers inside the confines of your body drive you over the edge. Your stomach tightens. You grab his wrist. Whether to keep his hand there, or pull it away, you don’t know. His tendons flex against your fingers as he pumps his digits in and out, his thumb rubbing your swollen clit in implacable circles.

‘ _Byakuya-’_

Back arching, head canted back, eyes slipping shut, you lose yourself. Your breath stutters, clogs in your throat, breaks out as a moan. The pressure building at the base of your spine unleashes, spreading through your body on waves of pleasure. He smooths back the hair that’s stuck to your forehead and presses a kiss to your temple as he eases his fingers free of your body.

He sighs. For a split second you’re worried that this will be the end of it. He’ll consider you satiated and go back to his work. Your doubt fades like old ink when he begins disrobing, shedding the layers of his shihakusho. In mere moments, your Byakuya is back, moon-pale, with night-black hair, and  _warm_. You’d expect him to be cool to the touch, but he’s warm and real and tangible, his lips urgent on your neck.

‘These have served their purpose,’ he says, his voice a shade deeper, as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and skims them down off your legs. They vanish into the shadows of the bedroom floor. His hands linger over the tops of the stockings you almost forgot you’re wearing. He smirks, so faintly, but it’s there. His eyes gleam, reflecting the faint light of the lamps. ‘ _These_  may stay.’

‘How utterly unexpected,’ you say, wry. Whenever you wear stockings, he never allows you to take them off until he’s through with you. ‘Come on, now, Byakuya. You’ve kept me waiting long enough.’

‘Patience is a virtue-nng-’ 

‘So is not tormenting your wife.’

‘So says the woman flaunting her legs in my study?’ His voice is strained, probably because of the hand you have wrapped around his shaft, stroking him.

‘Desperate measures.’

 _'Hn_.’

‘That is  _not_  an answer, Byaku-’

‘Quiet,’ he mutters, brushing his mouth over yours. The tip of his nose traces across your cheek, breath ghosting against your skin. He grasps the backs of your thighs and lifts your hips, aligning you with his erection. He sucks at the sensitive area just beneath your ear as he enters you in one smooth stroke. His previous ministrations have left you soaked and receptive. You card your fingers into his silk-smooth hair, twining it around your fingers. All of him. You’ve missed having all of him.

He braces one forearm beside your head, grasps your knee with his free hand, and wraps your leg around his waist. The lace scratches across his skin; his breath stutters against your cheek. Inside you, he twitches, setting off a stinging pleasure. Gradually he begins to move, drawing back his hips and sinking back inside you, allowing you to relish every inch of him. 

You flex your leg, impatient for him to move faster. No luck. He ignores the silent demand, entertaining himself with leaving delicate kisses over your shoulders and collarbones, his body disciplined to a sedate pace, filling you up with every deep, careful stroke. He hits your sweet spots every time, taking the broken threads of your previous orgasm, winding them together anew. Every thrust pushes a soft moan from your throat, a combination of lust, pleasure, and frustration. 

He lifts his head from the crook of your to rest his forehead on yours, eyes closed, eyelashes making shadows across his pale cheeks, lips parted a fraction. Sighs fill the space between you. Your cheeks flush with a sudden burst of adoration. 

‘Byakuya,’ you murmur, tilting your head so your mouths align. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, returning the kiss with a sudden, unexpected urgency. You drag your nails lightly over his scalp to run your hands down his back. Shivering, he sinks his fingers into your hair, lips firm against yours,  _tongue_  dipping in to taste your mumbles and moans. A slick, intimate exploration that makes your eyes flutter under their lids.

‘Are you all right? Is this what you want from me?’ His voice is a low thrum.

‘You’re everything I want.’

‘ _Hm_.’ An amused, affectionate sound. 

He rolls his hips  _just so_  and starbursts explode behind your eyelids. Again.  _Again_. The pleasure’s been creeping up on you while he kept you occupied with kisses, twining around you, making tangles of your nerves. Without warning, his pace picks up, driving into you with precision force, making sure to grind against your clit every time he hits home. In no time at all, you’re clutching his shoulders, gasping. Bolts of pleasure shoot through you, stronger than ever. 

You twine your legs tight around his waist, burying your face against his shoulder to muffle your mewls as your body begins to tremble. Sweat runs between your breasts, gathers on the back of your neck. His own back is slick with strain, with the mounting excitement that locks the pair of you together in your own private world of panting pleasure.

‘____.’ Your name is a ragged groan from the depths of his chest. You respond in kind, digging your heels into the small of his back as-  _yes_ ,  _finally._ You gasp with relief with your climax crashes over you, stronger than the last, deeper. Limbs slackening, you slump against the mattress. Byakuya grabs your leg and drags it up, changing the angle as he plunges once, twice more into your pulsating heat. His moan is muffled by the soft skin of your neck, felt more than heard. 

You reach up and run your fingers through his hair. He recovers his breath after a second or two, and raises his head. His eyes are half-closed, a warm dove-grey, sleepy. You can’t help but smile and turn your head to kiss him. Slow, all sighs and softness. He slips free of your body and shifts off to one side. Grasping your waist, he pulls you over himself to the other side of the bed where the sheets are cool and dry, blissful against your fevered skin.

Careful fingers peel your hair away from your face, stroking it back, then run down the side of your cheek, your neck, down your arm and back up. His touch leaves tingles, but they’re comfortingly sensual, not sexual. You curl as close a possible, savouring his uninterrupted presence. Many people have demands on his time, but right now he’s yours.

You map the planes of his face with your fingertips. His eyebrow raises when you trace it, giving him a imperious, lopsided look that you can’t help but chuckle at. His answering smile is soft, and full, and just for you. He looks so  _young_.

‘I should buy more stockings,’ you tease, running your finger around the shell of his ear. 

He snorts quietly. ‘Hn. Please don’t. I have a division to run.’

You smirk, and nuzzle your face into his chest. His hand clasps the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair.

‘No promises.’


	29. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot springs!

Sweat dripped from his forehead, from his shoulders, from his back, running in rivulets down to the surface of the water. He leaned back, bracing his arms on the outer-edge of the hot spring. Limp strands of powder-blue hair stuck to his forehead and neck. An aggravated sigh left his mouth, and he shoved his hair back. The sweat made him itch, and the heat made him bad-tempered. What had that idiot woman been thinking, dragging him to a place like this?

The word ‘onsen’ held little meaning for him, until you'd opened that laptop thing you spent so much time on, and showed him pictures of people reclining half-naked in water, grinning and drinking. Sitting up to your neck in scalding, stinking water with a bunch of strangers. Where was the appeal?

More importantly, why had he agreed?

You’d managed to swing a private rental for a night. The expense was necessary, paid for with the credit card he’d swiped from Urahara. Served the old creep right for not paying him properly. _Where the hell is she?_

He opened his mouth to holler for you, only to snap it shut when a soft footfall sounded behind him. He turned in the water, ready to unleash a tirade about what a stupid idea this was-

The steam-shrouded silhouette transformed into your naked body, strolling out toward the pool, hips swinging with confidence. The hackles on the back of his neck rose. Your breasts shifted with every casual strut, your hair loose around your face. The half-grin you wore, the arrogance you exuded -  it hit him like a gut-punch. His casual posture fell away, his gaze sharp and predatory. Below the water, his cock hardened to full length.

Suddenly ‘onsen’ had a certain ring to it.

 

* * *

 

The steam was damp and cool against your skin after that hot shower. The concrete path was rough under your feet, but bearable. Nighttime in the mountains - a thousand stars overhead, arranged in dizzying patterns, the chirping and whirring of unseen insects, a pissy Arrancar waiting in the hot spring.

Who could ask for more?

' _Hey_ -'

Grimmjow's irritable snarl trailed off in a grunt as he got a look at you. Immediately, blue-tinged reiatsu flooded the bathing area like a blanket of flame. His mouth curved into a wide, wicked grin. His gaze tracked down your naked body, taking in every dip and curve, cataloguing every inch of you with lustful, possessive heat.

' _Kitten_.'

He used your pet name all the time, but it still sent a finger of heat trailing down your spine to curl low in your abdomen. The water was both tempting and dangerous. The heat would soothe your muscles, sore from the journey, but the second you entered the steaming water, there would be a panther of a man between your thighs. There was no other choice, but it was also a rare opportunity to savour the anticipation. To enjoy the burning touch of his gaze on your skin while he wasn’t actually touching you. There were a series of steps leading down into the water. You took one step toward them. Grimmjow’s eyes hooded, teeth gleaming in his grin.

Raising an eyebrow, you kept walking, turning to make a circuit of the pool. His leer faltered.

‘Woman…’

The hint of warning in his tone made your stomach clench. Goosebumps broke out across your arms. The thrill of challenging a predator. He might be the one who annoyed you every day and shared your bed every night, but you never forgot who, and what, he was. The jagged mask on the side of his face was a stark reminder. As was the reiatsu lapping at your skin in a series of tiny, electrical kisses. He was a powerful predator, and you were toying with his next meal – you.

 _It’s not often the prey that circles the predator_ , you thought. He turned to look over his shoulder, gaze a hot, bright blue. He watched your every move, saw every hitch in your breath, how your nipples tightened under the intensity of that stare.

‘The longer you take to get over here, the more I’m gonna punish you.’ His voice was gravel, underlined with a growl from the depths of his chest.

‘Oh, like you’re not enjoying the view?’ you retorted, stretching your arms above your head as you finished your little circuit. He watched the arch of your back, the line of your stomach. You cocked your head to one side, grinning. ‘Is the water actually flowing _through_ your Hollow hole?’

He glanced down. He hadn’t paid it any attention. ‘Che. Get over here. Now.’

‘Why. What’re you gonna do to me?’

His mouth kicked up at the corner. ‘Take a wild guess.’

You didn’t need to. The answer was there in the gleam of his eyes, in the arrancar’s deceptively relaxed posture. He was going to pounce. Heart beating hard, you descended the first step. Water lapped at your ankles. The next, and the next. As you entered the pool, a liquid heat pooled in your stomach. A delicious shiver ran up your spine as Grimmjow grinned.

The heat seeped into your muscles, loosening them. Beads of sweat broke out on your upper lip; you licked them away. He followed the motion, eyes narrowing. The moment attenuated, growing tense, then snapped. A ripple of water, a flicker of sonido, and your back met the rough lip of stone ringing the hot spring. Grimmjow insinuated himself between your hips, caging you in with his arms braced either side of your head. The blunt head of his cock nudged against the apex of your thighs.

You saw the brief flicker of wild excitement in his eyes before his mouth crashed down on yours, the kiss hard and hot and demanding. You melted. Hands fisted in his hair, legs twining around his waist, mouth moving under his with just as much urgency. You’d wanted him all day, to feel the power of his body against yours, to watch his piss-poor mood turn to lust and pride.

All it took was a little teasing. Alas, it seemed Grimmjow had the same idea.

Hot breath washed against your neck, strands of powder-blue hair tickled your cheek as Grimmjow’s lips pressed a possessive, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your throat. The hard lines of his mask bumped your jaw. Now that he had you, he wanted to take his time with you, to enjoy the helpless squirming of your softer body, trapped between him and the edge of the hot spring.

No. You couldn’t wait.

You raked your nails down his back. He hissed; his cock twitched against your thigh.

That did it.

A hard thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing in rough circles that made your legs kick out. A splash. Ripples. He toyed with you, teeth scraping against your throat while you bucked and jerked in his hold.

‘ _Grimmjow._ ’

No answer, save for a guttural growl. He couldn’t wait any more. He needed to feel your heat wrapped around him, to possess you all over again. Grasping the backs of your thighs, he lifted you in the water until you aligned with the head of his cock. Then he let go, letting your own weight impale you slowly on his length. You clutched at his shoulders – the penetration was a slow, delicious stretch.

‘So thick,’ you muttered against his neck when he finally bottomed out. ‘I can hardly take you…’

‘ _Kitten_ ,’ he snarled, nudging his hips against yours. ‘Keep saying shit like that and I’ll fuck you until this pool evaporates.’

‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep,’ you said, knowing full well that he had the stamina and the will to back up his words. Goading him was just too much fun. It would be _you_ begging for a reprieve long before him. ‘Ah, _yes_ , just like that…’

He’d pulled out slow, only to drive back into you all in one go. A low fire started in the pit of your stomach, a hollow ache. Teeth pressed against your neck, not hard enough to penetrate. Just a reminder of danger, a prickle of pain to offset the pleasure growing between your legs.

‘Grimmjow,’ you moaned, clutching at his back as his hips rolled in a perfect fluid motion geared to have you panting.

Every thrust filled you utterly, stroking over the nerves inside your core until they lit up like little supernovas. And just to add insult to injury, he picked the angle that would catch your clit against his pelvic bone every time he bottomed out. He finished each thrust with a slow circular grind that made you spasm, your legs clenching around his waist, your toes curling. 

A low groan issued from your bastard arrancar, and he tugged at your hair to tilt your head back. His mouth slanted over yours – an urgent kiss. His teeth scraped across the swollen flesh of your bottom lip, before his tongue slipped into your mouth. He dominated your mouth as he did the rest of your body, tasting the urgent little whimpers he wrung out of you before they could escape.

Reaching up, you sank your fingers into his hair, gripping tight. A low growl started in his chest, almost a purr. It was overwhelming, every time. Sex with Grimmjow was always an all-consuming experience. He occupied every one of your senses, leaving no room for thought except _Yes, Please,_ and _More._

He twisted his mouth away from yours. Your gazes caught and held. His grin was wild, eyes blazing. All you could hear was the ragged chant of your breath, the slapping of water, and a rapid drumming – your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

‘That’s it,’ he said, voice ragged, tone delighted. He punctuated each word with a thrust. ‘That’s…fucking… _it, baby_.’

Your fingernails dug into the hard muscle of his lower back, feeling the bunch of his muscles every time he rolled his hips. He sucked in a breath at the little bites of pain. He deliberately weakened his _hierro_ to let you mark him up, score him with your nails when you fucked. _Masochist._

You were burning up from the inside, trapped between the edge of the pot spring and a gorgeous, feral male. The fire roared higher. Your thighs tightened around his waist. He grasped your ass in a crude squeeze and lifted you against his chest, bouncing you up and down the length of his dick. The water rippled around you, the night air cool against your flushed skin. Then he leaned forward and took one of your nipples into his mouth with a hard, hungry _suck_.

 _Fuck_.

‘ _Grimmjow!’_ you cried, voice full of strain and heat.

The sound of your release echoed across the empty hot springs, into the thin mountain air. His snarled response followed. He buried his face in your throat, teeth biting down on the tender skin as he twitched hard inside your clenching core, filling you with a flood of wet heat. You shuddered one last time, your grip on him softening. He panted hard against your neck, absent mindedly licking the little pearl of blood where one of his teeth had broken skin. You dragged a hand through his hand, and with a purr the licking turned to a sloppy kiss.

‘Worth the wait?’ you asked, feeling utterly weightless as he dragged you through the water to one of the sunken benches. He sat with you square on his lap, his hands skimming over your naked body. _Mine_ , the gesture said. ‘You’re so impatient sometimes.’

‘Tch. You’re the one who dragged us up to the fucking _mountains_.’

He ignored the lazy punch you landed on his shoulder, save to give your ass a slightly harder squeeze. You leaned on him, tilting your head back. The water returned to stillness, save where the night breeze stirred it. The insects started their whirring again. The steam cleared for a moment, giving you a view of those stars again.

‘This place stinks,’ he muttered, burying his nose in your neck. ‘Fucking sulphur.’

‘Maybe it’s you that stinks,’ you responded tartly.

He pinched your ass, hard. Your yelp was met with raucous male laughter.

‘Bastard.’

‘Shut up.’


	30. Kyoraku Shunsui/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note this isn't actually student x teacher. Reader is an adult and NOT a student, and Kyoraku teaches at a college. They're married. This is just roleplay. I don't condone student x teacher relationships. 
> 
> Also 30 chapters, holy shit. Thank you so much to everyone who comments and leaves kudos. It always makes me smile and makes writing these oneshots so rewarding. <3

He was wiping the board clean. There were smart boards now, but Professor Kyoraku always said that he didn’t feel the same writing on a computer screen. He could only teach with a proper, old-fashioned blackboard and chalk. There was something therapeutic about wiping away the day’s lessons after the last students had filed out, leaving it fresh and clean for the next day. His theory was that it wiped his mind clean at the same time.

Personally, you thought it was all just for the aesthetic. Much like his jacket with the leather elbow-patches. He insisted that it made him look ‘cool’ and ‘professory’, which wasn’t even a word. With or without it, he was the epitome of what a Romantic Literature professor should be: a lazy smile, deep-set dark eyes, stubble, and long, wavy brown hair he tied back in a ponytail. He even had a habit of tucking wildflowers in the hairtie, plucked from the jam-jar-turned-vase on his desk. Especially if they were pink. In any other century he would’ve been considered a dandy.

In any century, he was a terrible flirt.

You stuck your foot in the door before it could swing shut as the last student filed out. Notebook clasped against your chest, you nudged it open and leaned in.

‘Professor Kyoraku?’ you asked, making your tone high and sweet.

‘Shouldn’t you be heading home-‘ he said as he turned around, trailing off when he caught sight of you.

His eyes widened, trailing slowly down from your face to your outfit. You’d chosen it carefully. It was so different from what you usually wore. A white shirt with the buttons straining, a short, tight black skirt with a pink sweater tied around your hips, sheer tights, black pumps. He set the board wiper down, dusting chalk slowly off his hands. His mouth curved up into a slow, wide smile.

‘Now, should you be wearing that kind of thing in front of an old man like me?’

You let the door slam shut, the latch punching into place with a loud _clack_ that echoed through the classroom. The following silence was warm, heavy with anticipation.

‘You’re not _that_ old, Professor Kyoraku,’ you said, approaching his desk. The buttons on your shirt strained with every movement. ‘You’ve proved that to me enough times.’

‘Mm…you _do_ say sweet things,’ he said, kicking out his desk chair and sitting down. For all his tweed jacket and the flower tucked in his hair, he was a _big_ man. He dwarfed the chair, his long legs stretched out comfortably. He brushed imaginary dust off his thighs. A clear invitation.

 _No_. You weren’t going to come to him that easily. He’s a lazy man when he can get away with it. Sitting pretty on his lap made it too easy for him. Shuffling his books out of the way, the covers creased and the pages bristling with post-it notes, you perched on the desk and crossed your legs. The skirt rode further up your thigh. A mere daydream of a garment now.

‘ _Hmm_.’ A low hum of approval and amusement. He leaned forward in his chair. Something brushed, tingling, down your calf. The backs of his fingers. You flexed your foot, smile twitching, but said nothing. He’d have to try harder than that. He scooted his chair in closer to the desk, gazing up at you. He took the heel of your shoe, sliding it slowly off your foot. It clattered to the floor. He pulled your foot onto his lap, stroking the sole until you giggled. ‘Poor thing. Women’s shoes are so unforgiving.’

‘Mm, but it does make you stare at my legs…’ you said, leaning back on your elbows as his strong fingers massaged your foot. You couldn’t help but groan. ‘…are you trying to seduce me with a foot rub?’

‘Is it working?’

Oddly enough, it was. That wasn’t right. You were the one who’d come here to do the seducing. It would’ve taken a much stronger woman than you to pull away from those skilled hands, especially when he started up your calves. You let your head fall back, practically purring with the unexpected massage. Before long, Kyoraku had scooted his chair right between your thighs and your legs were draped over his shoulders. His full-lipped smile was wide as he grasped your hips and pulled you to the edge of the desk. Tension coiled in your belly as you realised his intentions. He’d weaselled you into opening up and leaving yourself so _deliciously_ vulnerable. A broad fingertip brushed down the centre of your sex, making you tingle even through the tights and underwear.

‘Sorry, but these are in the way.’

You opened your mouth to tell him to go right ahead. A tearing sound as your tights fell prey to him. Cool air washed against your bare inner-thighs, followed by the warmth of his breath. A husky chuckle. He leaned in closer, spreading your legs wider. He kissed you through the damp cloth of your underwear, followed by a slow, dragging lick. He hooked his finger inside the crotch of your underwear and pulled it aside, totally exposing your glistening pink flesh. In his lazy grey gaze, hunger flickered.

‘Put your hands on my head.’

‘Really?’ you asked with a cocked eyebrow. He wanted you to dominate him? You laid your hands on top of his head, the ends of your fingers sinking into his brown waves. ‘Like this?’

‘That’s it, petal.’

The deep, thrumming tone of approval made you shiver with anticipation. The tip of his tongue darted over your outer lips. A tease to make your breath catch. Kyoraku tilted his head, slipping his tongue inside your folds, spreading your legs as wide as they’d go. A slow lick and a lingering _suck_. Your clit pulsed, surrounded by his full lips, before he let it pop free. You tugged his hair, toes curling where they dangled in mid-air.

A rough, husky chuckle. ‘Mad at me for teasing, hmm?’

‘Then stop doing it.’

‘Bossy~’ If anything, he seemed pleased by your neediness. He licked every inch of you, tongue dragging repeatedly across your clit, slipping inside now and then to make you gasp. The classroom was quiet save for your panting, and the kissing, sucking sounds from between your thighs. It was lewd, hot as hell. If someone else walked in, they’d have seen nothing but Kyoraku’s head between your legs, your fingers in his hair. The blackboard only half wiped clean, the work interrupted.

Your head fell back, throaty moans spilling from your lips. Kyoraku planted his hands on your waist to stop you wriggling, sucking hard and greedy on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You were close, just on the verge of tipping over into back-arching bliss. A long, thick finger slid inside you. One stroke, two, and the digit curled, massaging your inner walls-

‘ _Shunsui!_ ’

He hummed in reply, the vibration buzzing through you. Your fingers curled into fists, tightening in his hair. He moaned around your clit at the prickle of pain, adding a second finger to your core. He twisted them, scissored them apart. Sweat slid down your back, making your shirt cling. He crossed his fingers inside you, wiggling them back and forth. You came with a bitten-off moan, hips bucking, grinding against his face.

Kyoraku pulled his fingers free of your body, easing you to lie flat on his desk. Getting to his feet, he shrugged off his jacket, wiping his mouth and chin on the inside of his shirt cuff. His hair had been yanked loose from the tie, spilling over his shoulders in chocolate brown waves. His eyes were dark, his expression smug. He wasn’t even close to being finished with you.

‘Demanding girl,’ he purred. It wasn’t a criticism, not by a long shot. His hands went to his belt. ‘Do you want all of me?’

‘ _God_ , yes.’

‘Hmm~’

His belt buckle rattled as he undid it, followed by the sound of his fly coming down. He grasped your thighs, pulling you back to the edge of the desk. A few papers slipped off, wavering to the floor. Neither of you paid any attention. He released his cock from his pants, long, thick, and aching from the confinement. It lay heavy against your inner thigh as he pressed between your legs. The blunt head bumped against your folds. He slid it teasingly across your clit; your breath stuttered. Then it nudged against your entrance, slick from his earlier ministrations, and pressed forward. The initial stretch was satisfying. You grasped the edge of the desk, biting your lip as you prepared to be filled. He stopped.

‘What-‘

Kyoraku’s mouth twitched at the corners, his eyes hooded and dark. He stayed exactly where he was, lodged just inside you, and began unbuttoning your shirt. The fabric practically sprang apart with each button he popped, falling away to reveal your breasts in your favourite bra. _Hmm_ , his favourite too. He took great satisfaction in reaching between the cups and squeezing the clasp. The hooks sprang free, and he brushed the cups negligently aside.

You moaned as he stroked both your nipples, already hard in the cool air of the classroom, and began pinching and rolling them between his expert fingers.

‘What did we say about teasing me?’ You pushed yourself eagerly into his hands. ‘Kyoraku…’

‘I’m not sure,’ he said, smirking as he tugged at your breasts. ‘You seem to be enjoying this so much. I’d hate to distract you from it, petal.’

‘Can’t you do it while you’re inside me- _oh!_ ’

One smooth thrust buried him inside you to the hilt. You groaned at the deep, satisfying sensation. His hips lay flush with yours, your core stretched around the girth of his cock. He leaned over you on the desk, using his height to his advantage. Loose fronds of hair tickled your face and chest. He moved. Your first moan was muffled; his mouth covered yours, your taste still glazing his lips. You pulled at his shirt, grabbing handfuls of it just to keep him close to you. His tongue slipped into your mouth, sliding against yours, turning your burning desire into a hollow ache that he satisfied with every thrust.

The desk legs squeaked in time with the motion. You were too far gone to care. Your skirt had been pushed up so far it was little better than a belt, your legs wrapped snug around Kyoraku’s waist.

‘ _Baby_ …’ Kyoraku groaned, leaning more of his weight over you as his angle changed. He hit a spot deep inside that made you keen.

You flung out your hand to grasp the edge of the desk. The pen pot went flying, scattering stationery all over the floor with a clatter. Kyoraku’s chuckle was deep. He bent his head to kiss your throat, sucking on the thin, vulnerable skin even as you giggled at your faux-pas. His facial scruff was soft, ticklish, his lips warm and smooth against you.

His groan vibrated against your neck, his pace faster, harder. The tight, tingling sensation from earlier returned, growing with intensity. Your inner walls tightened around him, trying to keep him inside, keep him rubbing against that spot that made your body flush with pleasure. His pelvic bone bumped against your clit, a happy accident that had you seeing stars. He grunted as you pulsed around him, pulling at his cock.

‘You like that, darling?’ he said, voice rumbling through his chest.

Suddenly one of your legs was over his shoulder, spreading you wide. Every thrust pressed and rubbed against your clit until you were clawing at his back, mewling for him to hurry up and finish it. Kyoraku was never a man to be rushed into things. He followed each thrust with a circular grinding motion, that made your leg muscles twitch. There was an itching, burning pleasure inside; you were hot, restless, squirming underneath the professor.

Just when you thought relief would never come, the pressure unfolded. A moan forced its way out of your throat. You dragged Kyoraku’s mouth down to yours, kissing him hard to muffle yourself as the orgasm rippled through you. The wooden desk squealed in protest as Kyoraku drove into you hard, chasing his own release in your maddening heat. He came with a low, pleased groan, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he shuddered, length twitching deep inside.

The pair of you stayed there for a few moments, basking, until the cool air of the classroom began to feel chilly. Kyoraku straightened up with a chuckle, shoving his hair back off his face. He pulled the folded handkerchief from his tweed jacket pocket and offered it to you with a flourish. You snorted, taking it from him. He tucked himself back into his pants, doing up his belt buckle. He picked up the pens while you fastened your bra.

‘Please tell me you remembered,’ you said, shoving your torn tights and underwear down and stepping out of them. ‘Because I didn’t bring a change of clothes.’

‘Of course I did.’ He bent and pulled a bag from beneath the desk. You took it from him with a breath of relief. ‘It’s getting late. Think we’ll make our dinner reservations?’

‘I’ll drive, since you always start daydreaming.’ Inside the bag were your regular clothes, and a small, wrapped parcel. You turned it over in your hands, glancing up at him. ‘Honey, what’s this?’

Shunsui leaned forward to kiss you, smirking against your lips. ‘Happy anniversary, Mrs. Kyoraku.’

You scratched him under the chin like the big, indolent cat he was. ‘Five years and you’re still not bored of me?’

He held up your ripped tights with a pointed look. ‘What do you think?’

‘Mm, good point.’


	31. Hirako Shinji/Reader

‘Where the hell d’ya put it all, doll?’ Shinji asked, rubbing at his stomach, which looked as perfectly flat as ever, his black kimono still a loose fit. ‘Ya even finished my dessert.’

‘Only a barbarian lets chocolate cake go to waste.’

‘Yeah, don’t tell Kensei I almost left half. He’d kill me.’

‘Well, he went to all the trouble of baking it,’ you pointed out, slipping past Shinji to perform the kido spell to unlock the front door of your private quarters. Shinji, never the best with kido, could usually manage it, but not without some frustrated swearing. Especially if he’d had a couple cups of sake like tonight. ‘Stop dawdling on the doorstep. It’s cold.’

‘I’m comin’, I’m comin’,’ he grumbled. 

There was no heat in it. Shinji complained as often as he breathed. He stepped in, slipping off his sandals. You unwrapped your scarf, tossing it over one of the pegs that held coats, multiple haori, a newsboy cap. You yawned, not bothering to cover your mouth, and stretched luxuriously.

‘Hey, hey, don’t go gettin’ sleepy on me already,’ Shinji said, hooking long, thin fingers into the sash of your shihakusho. His eyes became half-lidded, his smile sly. ‘Evenin’ ain’t over yet.’

‘So, you couldn’t finish a slice of cake but you’re up for  _that_?’ you muttered, reaching over to ruffle his bangs in the way he always whined at. He ducked away, pulling his fingers from your obi to comb his hair back into place. 

‘Ay, cut it out.’

‘Make me.’

Those light, playful words stopped him dead in his tracks. His head swung slowly back toward you, eyes gleaming gold in the warm lamplight. His reishi swelled, his seemingly-effortless control slipping in the face of his taunting, teasing girl.

‘ _Doll_.’

‘What?’ you asked, striding past him. You tugged your obi loose, breathing a sigh of relief as the cloth of your shihakusho loosened. Kensei could  _cook._ Garments fell like autumn leaves as you made your way to the bedroom. You were going to sink down on the bed and fall straight into a deep, cakey sleep-

Thin, strong hands caught you by the hips, pulling you back against a rangy body. The short, blunt ends of Shinji’s hair brushed your bare shoulder as he leaned over. His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, his voice a husky chuckle. 

‘I didn’t get t’finish my dessert.’ He squeezed your hips. ‘Lucky I brought ya home with me, ain’t it?’

‘I’m not a doggy-bag from a restaurant, Hirako.’

His thumb dragged down your spine, making your back arch unconsciously. Your breath caught in your throat, every nerve attuned to his touch. It was ridiculous, how quickly he could turn from lame to seductive. His voice deepened. ‘Nah, yer mine. Like I’d let anyone else get a taste of ya.’

‘Shinji…’ you muttered, torn between letting him get you hot and breathless, or brushing him off and going to sleep.

A hot, open-mouthed kiss pressed against your neck, right where it met your shoulder. Your knees turned weak, a pleased groan catching in the back of your throat. His calloused palms slid up over your stomach to cup your breasts through your bra, kneading them. One deft move and his hands were inside the garment. You felt his lips curve into a grin against your neck as he began to roll your nipples between his forefingers and thumbs, pinching and tugging.

‘ _Shinji…_ ’ His name came out breathier, with an undercurrent of growing need. Damn it, he could make you forget all about blissful sleep. If you pulled away now to make a point, you’d go to bed sexually frustrated with a sulking boyfriend next to you. Why not just reap the rewards of a horny Hirako? ‘Mm…stop groping me for a sec…’

He did stop, but his mouth didn’t.

‘I’m gonna make ya scream, baby,’ he said, eyes gleaming as he tugged open the knot on his tie, watching you sitting on the bed, unhooking your bra. He’d tussle with the hooks and bitch about it if it was left up to him. He groaned at the sight of your breasts, finally free from confinement. The rest of his clothes came off in a flurry of activity, hitting the floor with uncharacteristic carelessness. ‘Gawd, yer tits’ll be the death of me.’

He came forward, wearing his signature toothy grin. You scooted backwards toward the headboard, that tension building in your stomach again. The sheets were deliciously cool against your skin as you lay down, followed seconds later by Shinji’s warm skin over yours. His thin, soft lips slanted over yours, pressing your mouth open for a slick slide of his tongue. His skin was warm to the touch, his back arching up into your hands, a pleased hum vibrating into the kiss. His body settled on yours, lean hips between your thighs. It was so easy to sink into the warmth, the heat. Relax and open up and-

‘I’ll make ya come so hard ya go cross-eyed, baby,’ Shinji whispered against your lips.

Your eyes opened, hands going still. ‘Shinji.’

He was undeterred, nipping your bottom lip. ‘Thassit, baby, say my name.’

Tch. He was incorrigible. You huffed a laugh and gave his ass a little slap, squeezing. He all but purred, hips rolling against you. His length pressed against your inner thigh, hard and twitching. Shinji lifted his head, teeth gleaming in a grin. It was a distraction. Your breath snagged as two long, thin fingers pressed between your folds. Finding you already slick, his eyebrow cocked up, expression turning smug.

‘Mm, yer already ripe for me, darlin’?’

‘Ripe?’ you repeated, hips bucking as he pressed down either side of your clit and massaged the sensitive bundle of nerves. They dipped inside your core. ‘ _Nn!_ ’

His eyes glittered. He pulled his fingers free of your body and raised then, glistening with your arousal, to his mouth. He sucked them clean, eyes fixed on yours. Your mouth was half open, watching him, transfixed. He gave a wide, sharp smirk. ‘Juicy.’

A beat of silence.

Your expression fell flat. ‘For fuck’s sake, Shinji.’

‘Mm, ya like cussin’ me out, don’tcha…’

‘Shinji…’

‘Ya dirty lil’ mouth…’ Kisses trailed down your neck, breath puffing against your skin, and his fingers returned to where they were needed the most, pumping in and out of your slick core, his thumb pressed firmly against your clit. ‘Talkin’ such filth, baby…’

‘ _Shinji_.’ You couldn’t help but giggle. He was  _ridiculous._  He was an idiot. He was… He was…

He was sucking at the patch of skin just above your collarbone that sent a chill of pleasure down your spine, like someone stroking an ice-cube down your back. Your nipples furled tighter, aching to be touched again, the inner-walls of your sex rippled around his invading fingers. Shinji exhaled through his nose, a little sound of triumph. His teeth prickled against your skin. Little pinpricks that contrasted deliciously with the fire building steadily between your thighs. His hand was working you with all the long-fingered skill he possessed. He crossed the digits inside you, waggling them back and forth until your hips bucked, which only served to force your clit harder against the relentless massaging of his thumb. You cupped the back of his head, fingers curling into thick, locks of short golden hair. Your body was full of a restless, buzzing heat, sweat slicking your skin.

‘Shinji… _baby_ …’

‘Ya nearly there, darlin’? Good.’

You cried out with loss as he slipped his fingers free of you, only to moan with delight as they were replaced with the length of his cock, sliding inside to the hilt. The pair of you groaned. Shinji shivered, his nose wrinkling with pleasure as he adjusted to the feeling of being surrounded by tight, pulsing heat. Weight braced on his forearms, his head hung down, blunt bangs tickling across your forehead. He gave a low, raspy chuckle.

‘Aaah, darlin’, yer swallowin’ me whole. Yer so fuckin’ tight-‘

‘Just move,’ you whined, grabbing at his hips as though you could do it for him. You’d been halfway to orgasm and you could feel the high slipping. You needed him, needed him to-

‘Nn, I’ll fuck ya good when ya beg for it.’

‘Shinji…’ you protested, frustration and embarrassment painting your cheeks red. ‘Don’t hold my orgasm hostage.’

He kissed the tip of your nose, grinding his hips slowly against yours. Your toes curled as his cock shifted inside you, just enough to tease. His pelvic bone nudged against your clit, but not enough. His smile was small, sharp, and wicked.

‘Beg. Lemme hear that filth.’

He brushed against a sweet spot. A flash of heat went through you, a gasp slipping out of your throat. Your fingernails dug into his ass cheeks. He hissed, but didn’t stop, grinding you into the sheets, wearing down your barriers.  _Fuck_.

‘Fuck me, Shinji,’ you blurted. No, wait, you could do better than that. ‘Please,  _please_ , fuck me, Hirako-taicho!’

‘Sh-shit…’

The use of his rank in bed always did something to him. It triggered a rush of endorphins, a feeling of power and acknowledgement and smug, masculine satisfaction. You hoarded the technique, using it only under the most dire circumstances, such as tonight. With a lusty groan, Shinji’s mouth crashed against yours, all lips and tongue and groans, his body surging against yours, his hips snapping in urgent thrusts that made your back arch, your legs kick. The pleasure was an onslaught, dragging you along with it like a hapless swimmer in a riptide.

Your fingernails scored down his back, your keening moan echoing through the dim bedroom. Shinji answered it with low groans and grunts of his own. Sweat beaded on his back, his forehead. Strands of golden hair stuck to his neck, his cheeks. He bit down on his bottom lip, cords standing out in his neck. The bed squeaked, headboard knocking against the wall. Thank gods the pair of you lived alone.

‘Hirako- _taicho!_ Shinji…shit-‘

‘Thassit, darlin’, fuckin’ take it all.’

‘I’m gonna-’

‘Come fer me, doll!’

With a grunt, his hips slammed home, filling you to the brim once more. The threads of your orgasm pulled tight and  _snapped_ , pleasure pulsing through you like ripples on a pond. Shinji groaned as your core tightened around him, mercilessly dragging his own release out of him. 

He collapsed on you, panting. His golden head rested on your chest, his breath puffing against your sweaty skin. He rolled his hips back, sliding free of you with a shaky breath. 

‘ _Darlin’.’_

‘Mnuh?’ was your eloquent reply. 

You lay in the tangled sheets, warm and dazed. Your core still pulsed with aftershocks, your toes wriggling as the tingles worked their way through your body. The bed felt exquisitely comfortable, as though you were lying on a cloud. Shinji pushed himself up, moving slow as though his body was unbearably heavy. He collapsed beside you with a huff, his face nuzzling into your neck. He curled into you, one hand coming up to idly fondle your breast. There wasn’t a need to talk. Just to enjoy the afterglow and each other’s comp-

‘Do we have any cake?’ Shinji asked, giving your breast a playful squeeze.

You turned your head to give him an incredulous look. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’


	32. Urahara Kisuke/Reader/Shihoin Yoruichi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The request for this fic was a playful reader who's got a FWB arrangement with both Kisuke AND Yoruichi, but separately. They find out and decide to team up. Reader is outgunned and outmanned.

**Yoruichi Shihoin x Reader x Kisuke Urahara – Dream Team**

To say you were a free _spirit_ was both true, and a terrible pun. The sort Kisuke would make while grinning like an idiot behind his fan, pretending to be suave. 

The bag of takeout swung carefree from your fingers, probably stirring up that stir fry more than was intended by the cook at Lotus Garden. It was a balmy evening in June; a breeze caressed your bare legs and shoulders. Your floaty sundress was purloined from Yoruichi’s wardrobe. The woman had so many clothes, she probably wouldn’t notice. If she _did_ recognise it, she’d just take it off you. The thought gave you a little shiver.

Neon signs buzzed, competing with the orange streetlamps to block out the stars. The traffic on the main road was a distant roar. Tired salarymen passed you in groups, loosening their ties and making excited chatter about cheap beer and hot food at the local izakaya. A few made appraising eyes at you. You dismissed them with a shrug of the shoulder. You had far more enticing options.

Speaking of.

You turned the corner into a sheltered courtyard, set back from the street. In the centre sat a small store, shut up for the night. Lights glowed in the upper windows, but not the steady electric light you’d expect. It flickered, casting dancing shadows. You paused mid-step, frowning.  _What the hell is Kisuke up to? Not another experiment. Or worse, he’s decided to rewire the house._

You pulled a key from your pocket. An Urahara-shoten fob dangled from the ring, fighting for space with a charm shaped like a little black cat. You liked the reminders. Letting yourself into the shop through the side door, you strained your ears for any sound. It was silent in the storage room, only dust. You entered the shop front, looking for any sign of the elusive shopkeeper.

‘Kisuke?’

 _Snickt._  The sound of a door sliding shut in the back of the shop. You turned on the spot, unease running down your spine like a drop of cold water. Flickering lights, people scuttling around in the dark?  _What the hell are you up to, you mad scientist git?_

A crash. Something skittered in the dark, claws clattering. It was small, quick. You stumbled back, making a break for the door to the private residence upstairs. Something furry brushed against your bare calf, darting past you.

You shrieked and dropped the bag of takeout. The smell of spilled sweet-and-sour sauce filled the air.  _Shit_. Had that been a rat?  _Tessai will have a fit._

Smoke billowed, under-lit an eerie orange by the streetlights outside. There was a hiss like steam escaping, and a tall figure materialised in the fog. You were torn between instinctual fear and a nagging sense of familiarity.

Two golden eyes gleamed at you in the dark. The figure took a step forward, then stopped. Paused.

‘Is that my dress?’

The tension fled from you in a shaking breath. You stamped one flip-flopped foot.  _‘Yoruichi!’_

‘What?’ The low, female voice turned playful. Yoruichi stepped around the growing puddle of sauce, giving the ruined takeout a pitying look, and wrapped her arms around your waist. Her chin nestled on your shoulder. She smelled faintly floral, a perfume of yours, forgotten at her place. ‘You’re not mad at me for scaring you? You should’ve known it was me.’ 

She tugged at your skirt, and her hand slid underneath to give the back of your thigh a squeeze. The noble had a habit of groping you any chance she got, rain or shine. Her thumb rubbed against a hickey she’d left last night. ‘Did you raid my wardrobe when you left this morning?’

You shrugged. ‘I couldn’t help it when you left my clothes in shreds.’

Yoruichi’s hand slid up. It suddenly became difficult to pay attention to anything else. You were sharply aware that she was stark naked, pressing warm and soft and distracting against your side. ‘Well, you were an itch I had to scratch,’ she purred. She laughed at your eye-roll. ‘What brings you to Kisuke’s at this time of night?’

 _Damn it_. You’d been hoping she wasn’t going to ask that question. Neither Yoruichi nor Kisuke, nor any of your other friends with benefits, asked about each other or tried to pin you down. You’d decided to keep your little tête-à-têtes with each of the two friends private from the other, just in case things got awkward. But now…

Someone else answered for you.

’She’s here for a tryst with a humble, handsome shopkeeper, obviously.’

The lights in the shop rose, as if at the start of a play. Lounging across the shop counter on his elbow, fanning himself idly, was Kisuke Urahara. His hat was missing. Sandy blonde hair hung in his eyes, shading them, but there was no mistaking the heated amusement in them as he gazed at you, and the naked Yoruichi.

‘Pretty dress, princess.’

You glanced between them, suspicion rising. Their arrivals seemed too well-timed. They made the phrase ‘old friends’ laughable, allies on the battlefield and off. ‘What are you two-’

A _flicker_. Kisuke’s body pressed against you from the other side, his hands wrapping around your waist, heat bleeding through the thin cotton of the dress. His stubble prickled your neck, his voice rumbling into your ear. ‘You’ve been holding out on us.’

Yoruichi’s fingers traced circles on the back of your thigh. ‘So much potential, wasted.’

Kisuke hummed in agreement. ‘So, we came to a little arrangement. Mutually beneficial for all parties involved, of course.’

Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach, even as goosebumps broke out over your exposed arms. Yoruichi’s hair trailed over your shoulder. Her hand slipped up between your thighs, fingertips teasing over your underwear. You felt as much as heard her intake of breath.

‘ _Lace?’_ she said in tones of deepest approval. ‘You sure know how to spoil a girl, ____-chan.’

‘Oh?’ Kisuke’s fingers, longer and broad-tipped, joined Yoruichi’s in petting you. ‘Hmm,  _very_ nice.’

You didn’t even have the grace to blush. The heat blooming in your cheeks was for something else entirely. It was your body growing languorous and heavy, ready to give in to whatever diabolical scheme these two had concocted. You tipped your chin up defiantly, smiling into eyes golden and grey. ‘Whatever you two are planning, get on with it. You’re- _mmm…’_

Kisuke had taken the opportunity to press his lips against the curve of your neck in hot, open-mouthed kiss. His facial hair tickled, his tongue slick on your hot skin. He could feel your pulse begin to race against his lips, the little buzz as you sighed.

‘Someone’s not wasting any time,’ Yoruichi observed, amused. She pinched the cloth of your underwear, tugging it away from the rapidly dampening flesh of your core. ‘I guess he’s feeling left out since I had you last night.’ 

‘Hn, but that begs the question of who got her the night before.’ Kisuke’s tone was teasing. 

‘None of your business-’ you said tartly, the end of the sentence cutting off in a whine as Yoruichi’s fingers slid past the barrier of your underwear, dexterous and determined. ‘You don’t own me~’

‘Wouldn’t dream of thinking it,’ Yoruichi said breezily. 

Kisuke tugged the zip of your dress down, revealing a deep vee of smooth skin. The hooks of your bra popped open before they knew what was happening. Things were escalating quickly. Kisuke traced his fingers along your shoulders, catching the straps of the dress. The hairs on the nape of your neck stood on end. The dress puddled at your feet in folds of cotton.

‘Let’s continue this upstairs,’ he said. ‘Since I went to so much trouble to set the mood.’

‘You nearly set the building on fire.’ Yoruichi sounded as though that would’ve only mildly inconvenienced her.

‘Don’t ruin the ambiance,’ Kisuke chided.

He swept you up, dressed as you were in nothing but your underwear and your catlike smile of anticipation. He felt like a king, carrying one pretty woman to bed while another followed behind.

Yoruichi’s gaze burned into yours over Kisuke’s shoulders as he carried you up the stairs. They seemed to flicker with gold. They  _were_  flickering. As you rounded the corners, it became evident why. Candles lined the hallway, forming a glowing path toward the open door of Kisuke’s bedroom. Inside was lit up like a cathedral, bathing everything in a golden haze. Candles sat on every surface. Incense burned, smoke coiling to the ceiling. The wide, low bed was made up in lush silk.

Kisuke lowered you to the bed. Silk pressed cool against your back, a pillow beneath your head. The incense was your favourite, the scent heady. It was like the smoke was seeping into your body, turning everything warm and lazy. Yoruichi prowled across the bed to your side while Kisuke disrobed. He stroked his chin, smirking at the sight of the pair of you.

‘Stop leching and get down here,’ Yoruichi instructed, running idle fingers up the inside of your thigh.

‘You can’t blame a man for looking.’

‘Okay, you keep looking and I’ll have ____-chan all to myself~’

‘Maa, you’re cruel,’  

‘We both know you like a little cruelty, Kisuke,’ you retorted. ‘You practically come whenever I pull your hair.’

Kisuke dropped the last shreds of clothing and draped himself over the bed like a handsome, lecherous throw rug. His erection lay against your thigh, Yoruichi’s breasts pressed against your arm. You were thoroughly sandwiched. Candlelight limned Yoruichi’s brown skin, picked out gold highlights in Kisuke’s sandy hair. You licked your lips, a touch nervous. 

On their own, Yoruichi and Kisuke were a lot to handle. But together, when they’d had time to plot? You wondered if you’d survive the combination. Several dozen of their foes had not.

Their eyes met across your body, like two lovers perusing a menu. _Certainly hope I’m about to get eaten_ , you thought.

Impatient with their secret communications and slow pauses, you wriggled your hips out of your underwear and tossed them aside. Your bra followed, flung away gleefully.

‘You really can’t wait, huh?’ Kisuke sounded pleased. He leaned over you, cupping one of your breasts and wrapping his lips around your pert nipple. He massaged the soft mound, sucking and licking with abandon.

‘Don’t you just love how she gets all squeaky when you do that?’ Yoruichi said, putting a finger under your chin and turning your face to her. Her lips moulded against yours, her sharp little teeth digging into your plump bottom lip. She soothed it with a suck, pulled back. Amber eyes and a cheeky feline smile filled your vision. ‘We were trying to work out how to best share you.’

‘What did you decide?’ you asked, speaking in stutters while Kisuke carried on working over your breasts. It was impossible not to squirm. You grabbed a handful of sandy blonde hair and tugged.

Kisuke grunted. Shifted closer. Something stiff and warm nudged against the outside of your thigh. His teeth pinched your nipple. You hissed and tugged harder; his dick gave a telltale twitch.

‘We decided to screw you senseless, so you’d want to make this a regular thing,’ Yoruichi said with a lazy shrug. ‘There’s all kinds of things we can do with you. Kisuke and I are old enough to have plenty of tricks up our sleeves.’

That was what made you tingle with anticipation. The amount of knowledge they could pool together to use against you.

‘Kisuke, stop toying with her and get to work,’ Yoruichi ordered, every inch the Shihoin lady.

A husky chuckle. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

Without preamble, your thighs were spread open by a pair of warm, calloused hands. Kisuke had long, tapering fingers. Perfect for a scientist, or as you preferred to think of him, a meddler. He drummed a playful tattoo against your knee as he opened you wider and settled on his stomach. The very ends of his hair whispered over your skin.

He dove in tongue-first. Yoruichi didn’t give you long to dwell on him as she climbed over you, straddling your stomach much like her cat-form would. Lightning-quick, she grabbed both your arms and pinned them to the pillow above your head, holding them fast. Between her and Kisuke you were utterly trapped. She uttered a quick incantation, and a flare of red light bound your wrists together to the bed, keeping you chained. _Kido in bed? Is that even allowed?_ She plumped your breasts in both hands, forcing more blood to your nipples. They were ripe for teasing by the time she got around to tugging and pinching them. Just rough enough to make you wetter than ever, eliciting a groan of approval from Kisuke.

It was impossible to squirm with Yoruichi sitting on you, so Kisuke was free to do whatever he liked. His tongue rolled and flexed against your clit, lapping up every trace of your arousal. He trailed his fingertips against your notoriously sensitive inner-thighs, pinching and tickling. With a quiet grunt of pleasure, he sucked your clit into his mouth and moved his head from side to side, stubble rasping your sensitive flesh. Your clit popped free of his lips, but that only meant he got to go in again and repeat the manoeuvre.

‘Fingers!’ you pleaded, toes curling and legs kicking as the pair of them worked you over in perfect partnership. Your entire body was flushed, covered in a light sheen of sweat. Your nerves were on fire, and the exquisitely vulnerable position they kept you in only added to your arousal. ‘Kisuke, please!’

‘I do like it when she begs,’ Yoruichi hummed, giving your aching nipples a firm pinch that had you seeing stars. ‘It’s so cute to see her go from cocky to pleading.’

‘She _did_ say “please”,’ Kisuke said. He was rock-hard, even more so at the sounds you were making, and prepared to be magnanimous. ‘Shall I give her what she wants?’

‘Hmm,’ Yoruichi pondered. Mischief glittered in her eyes as she smirked down at you, at your heated cheeks and darkened eyes. ‘Just this once.’

Two thick digits pushed inside you, up to the knuckle. You cried out at being so suddenly filled, only to be muffled by Yoruichi's kiss. When you strained up toward her she pulled away, playing at being coy. She stoked her fingertip down your cheek, tracing the edge of your parted lips.

‘Keep up the good word, Kisuke,’ she praised. ‘I think she’s close.’

Whether he was motivated by the praise or your impending orgasm was hard to say, because his face was buried between your thighs, lips and tongue occupied with torturing your clit, while his fingers pistoned in and out of your soaking core. You tugged pointlessly against your invisible restraints, body straining under the two of them. Yoruichi watched you avidly, a self-satisfied curve to her lips. When the pleasure pulsing through you finally reached maximum capacity, you keened, muscles pulling taut. Yoruichi hummed in approval, brushing locks of hair off your face. Your inner muscles pulsed around Kisuke’s fingers, in time with the rhythm of his sucking mouth.

He finally pulled away, easing his fingers out of your body. He went to wipe them clean, but Yoruichi caught his wrist. A glance simmered between them. Yoruichi pulled, Kisuke obeyed. Her pink tongue dragged against his fingers, removing every trace of your glistening arousal. You and Kisuke watched, transfixed, as Yoruichi took the tip of his index finger between her lips and sucked.

She let him go with a wink. The spell dissipated, but only for a second. Yoruichi rolled off you to sprawl on the plush pillows, plum-purple hair fanning out behind her. She lounged there like the princess she was, clothed in dignity and sensuality, if nothing else.

The kido bonds around your wrists vanished; Yoruichi crooked her finger. Dizzy from the last orgasm, you moved slowly to your knees and crawled toward the Shihoin noblewoman. She pulled you closer, cupping the back of your head. The kiss was soft, soothing after your previous exertions, but you didn’t let it fool you. They were in no way finished with you. Her tongue traced your bottom lip, before slipping inside to stroke against your own. She let you taste your own flavour on her mouth.

‘Hey, now, what about me?’ Kisuke asked, not sounding too put out at all. He could enjoy watching such a display as much as being a participant. ‘Don’t I get a kiss?’

‘Fine, fine,’ you said, your grin belying your beleaguered tone. You turned from Yoruichi to the sandy-haired man, grabbing him a lock of hair and dragging him in close. He gave a sort of gasp-grunt and grabbed your hips, squeezing hard. You wrapped a hand around his cock. He was fully erect, throbbing, a clear drop of precum gathering at the head. A little tug on his hair and he groaned into your mouth, twitching in your palm. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

‘____,’ Yoruichi purred.

Kisuke let out a mutter of disappointment as you answered Yoruichi’s summons without a second thought. You knew he’d do the exact same thing in your position. Yoruichi opened her thighs, a clear invitation. Her eyes were half-lidded, lazy and golden in the candlelight. The deep-brown skin of her inner thighs was soft to the touch, and _sensitive_. She sighed, leaning further back into the pillows and canting her hips toward you. You answered with kisses and gentle bites, all the way up to her slit. She was already damp, but not nearly enough.

Yoruichi’s fingers curled into your hair as you kissed the crook of her thigh. You tried a few tentative licks against her outer folds. Her breath hitched with each one. Nothing for it. You thumbed her open a little wider and dragged your tongue up in a wide, hot stripe. Her toes curled, her thighs squeezing closer around your shoulders.

‘ _Mmm_ , more of that...’

Something tickled your back, light and feathery. Kisuke pulled your hips back, pressing a kiss between your shoulderblades. ‘Mind if join the party?’

‘Be my guest,’ you said raggedly, before burying your face back between your other lover's thighs.

Kisuke lined himself up with you and entered in one smooth stroke. Your moan vibrated into Yoruichi who tugged at your hair in encouragement. Kisuke groaned as you tightened and pulsed around him. Pinned between them, every thrust drove your gasps and moans straight into Yoruichi's core. Her head fell back as your squeals vibrated around her clit, her heels digging into the mattress. Kisuke was going to leave finger-shared bruises on your ass. Trophies of the evening you'd spent between two of Soul Society's most notorious former taicho.

Your senses were overwhelmed, two pairs of hands petting your body, made even more sensitive because all you could see was the smooth skin of Yoruichi's belly and the undersides of her breasts. You closed your eyes, willing to be swallowed by sensation. Yoruichi's flavour flooded your mouth, unlike anything you could describe. Kisuke filled you smooth, deep thrust after thrust, his hips smacking against your sweat-slick skin. Lewd sounds filled the bedroom, the air heavy with lust.

Pleasure twisted hot and tight down your spine, turning your nerves to supernova clusters, your thoughts to mush. Kisuke's clever, mischievous fingers slid down your stomach and between your thighs. Every thrust forced you forward, pressing your overworked clit into his touch. Sweat slicked your back, slid between your aching breasts. Yoruichi was all but grinding her clit against your tongue, giving out low, throaty moans. Kisuke bit off curses, chuckling and praising you.

Abruptly, the tension _snapped_. White-hot pleasure flared through your body, overloading your nervous system like an electrical shortage. You stiffened and shuddered, moaning against Yoruichi in senseless ecstasy. She pulled you away, up toward her mouth. Her slow, drugging kisses muffled your whimpers as Kisuke worked himself to completion.

With a grunt, he emptied himself inside you, cock twitching with release. Firm ridges of muscle pressed against your back, sandwiching you against Yoruichi. He pressed lazy, prickly kisses to the side of your neck. The warmth was welcome – the bedroom air was too cool against your burning skin.

'Well done, princess~' he praised, stroking sweat-soaked hair off your face. 'We might have to do this more often.'

'I think I'd die,' you muttered. _But what a way to go._

'Maybe next time we can get Kisuke to open his box of tricks.' Yoruichi was the first to pull away, stretching out on the cool sheets and reaching for a bottle of champagne you hadn’t noticed before, resting in a bowl of ice-cubes. She popped the cork with her teeth. It ricocheted off a wall to some unseen corner, instantly forgotten. Tessai would probably find it next year. Yoruichi took a swig, lips glistening with bubbles. 'You must have some dirty toys hidden up your sleeve.'

'You'll have to be very, _very_ good,' Kisuke drawled, reaching for the bottle. He drank and passed it to you with a champagne-tinged kiss. The bubbles popped on your tongue. 'So, a rest before round two?'

You coughed on a mouthful of champagne. ' _What!?'_


	33. Aizen Sosuke/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NB: The request for Lieutenant Aizen having an unrequited infatuation with the Reader and having a wet dream about it. It's all presented from his point-of-view so Reader has been twisted to fit his fantasy. 
> 
> Also, this is the REAL reason Aizen hates Shinji. He tried to Hollowfy him like a week later. XD

The night was warm, heavy and humid. Cicadas buzzed and whined in the distance, sounding remarkably like Hirako-taicho, whom Sosuke had just left. His feet traced the path back to his own quarters, taking the moment of solitude to order his mind. His straw waraji scraped on the paving stones, his robes rustled. A breeze would have been welcome.

His expression morphed from its habitual easy smile to a narrow-eyed, supercilious glare. As though the person weighing on his mind was standing right in front of him. It was fortunate that you were not.

_Damned woman._

Sosuke Aizen was not a man used to being denied what he wanted. If he could not have it outright, he would twist and tug the strings of fate until his desired object fell into his grasp. People were just as easy to acquire as they were to discard. He had never been unable to attain his target.

There is, of course, an exception to every rule.

There was nothing stopping him from using Kyoka Suigetsu to dazzle you and bring you to settle like a tame bird in his hand. All that stayed him from this path was his own ego. As illogical as it was, he wanted you to desire him of your own free will. What use was it, being magnificent, if he had to shackle your mind to his will to make you see it?

He had tried kindness, putting that gentle look on his face as easily as a mask. You had responded with politeness. He had tried using his rank. You were respectful, but distant. He had tried veiled threats to bring you to heel. You had missed the hints entirely, or not seen them as dangerous.

Every one of his thwarted attempts only increased his frustration. Had he played the part of the humble, bookish man too well? Trying to catch your attention was like trying to grasp mist with his bare hands. Impossible. An exercise in futility.

He had that Momo girl at his beck and call. He had already decided to make her his fukutaicho when he was raised to the rank of taicho. Her kind of blind loyalty was the best disguise he could ask for. But he would throw her away if it meant you would look at him with the kind of awe he deserved.

Above all, he was disgusted with himself for this… _obsession_. He had plans so far flung and convoluted a spider would be envious of his web. The fate of four realms hung on his future, and he was wasting his attention on an oblivious third seat.

_Ridiculous._

He entered his apartment in the fifth division complex. It was carefully arranged, minimalist, but with a few personal touches that added to his façade. Books, a writing desk, a scroll of poetry on the wall. His bedding lay rolled up, waiting for him to return. He dragged it out, not resenting the physical labour. He would do whatever was necessary while he waited, experimented, shifted his pawns an inch this way, a hair that, and waited some more.

He cast off his shinigami uniform, leaving the crisp black linen folded, ready for tomorrow. He exchanged it for a sleeping robe, white cotton. Humble, unassuming, down to the last detail. He put the useless glasses aside and lay down, his gaze fixed on the dark ceiling. He would either conquer you, or destroy you. You could not be allowed to distract him further from his goals.

Sosuke’s eyes slipped shut.

_‘Aizen-sama.’_

_White spreads out before him. A fortress of monstrous proportions on an endless pale desert. Black sky, and a moon like a curved dagger. Cold chills his bones. White silk presses against him as he moves, his vision unimpeded by black frames and useless glass lenses. He allows himself a slow, sneering smirk. This. Finally. He is where he belongs, standing atop the world._

_This one, anyway._

_‘Aizen-sama~’_

_The wind swirls your voice around him, breathless and sultry. He turns away from the balcony and its view of Hueco Mundo, his dead kingdom, to face you. Despite himself, his dark eyes widen._

_White silk clasps at your throat, floating in gauzy folds to your waist, where it is cinched by a pink sash, the same colour as his own. The rest of the dress, such as it is, splays out to the floor. The fabric is so thin he can see the outline of your figure through it. The darker circles of your nipples show through where the hardened peaks push at the fine weave. Your hair is arranged at the back of your head, showing the graceful curve of your neck, just as he likes it. Your gaze is downcast, your lips parted to say his name again._

_‘____.’_

_Your name falls from his lips, heavy and golden like a drop of honey. He can see the effect it has on you. The indrawn, stuttering breath, the flutter of your pulse jumping at the base of your throat. How perfect you are. ‘Come here.’_

_You go to him obediently. He puts a finger under your chin and tilts it up toward him. Your eyes stay down, lashes almost touching your cheeks._

_‘Look at me.’_

_Your gaze lifts, meeting his. A bolt of heat shoots down his spine at the wonder there, the fear, the submission, the slavish devotion. He has no other choice but to lean down and claim your mouth in a kiss, and it is definitely a_ claiming _. He cups the back of your head, fingers digging into your hair. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, dominant and giving no quarter. You taste as sweet as he’d imagined, almost as though you’ve had a mouthful of honey._

_He opens his eyes, pulling away but not letting go of you. He can feel your gaze lingering on him even as he scans the room, waiting for his command or some subtle hint as to his desires. Your attention only hardens the erection rapidly growing in his white hakama. On the other side of the room is an enormous bed, made up in white silk. Thin sheets of silk hang down from the ceiling, metres and metres above. It gives the illusion of privacy._

_‘Go, lie down on the bed and wait for me,’ he orders, pressing his thumb against the plump centre of your bottom lip. ‘Think of how to please me.’_

_‘Yes, Aizen-sama.’ Your voice is just the right amount of breathless to please him._

_He hears your bare feet pattering across the marble floor, and the rustling as you situate yourself in the centre of the bed. He takes his time, intending to enjoy himself. With slow, deliberate movements, he unravels his pink obi, letting it slide to the floor. His heavy white haori follows. He smirks as he moves toward the bed, undoing the ties that hold up his hakama. The long himo rasp against the floor as he walks._

_‘Lift your skirts.’_

_‘Yes, Aizen-sama.’_

_Obediently, you pull the cloth up until it ruches around your waist. He is pleased to see that you wear nothing underneath. Ready for him, obedient and willing. He drags his fingers back through his hair, letting himself feast on the sight. A man contemplating a delicacy before he devours it._

_‘Touch yourself.’_

_‘Yes, Aizen-sama.’_

_He watches as your hand slides between your legs, slowly, as if to increase his viewing pleasure. Your fingers delve between your folds, finding the spot that pleases you the most. He watches your knees rise and spread, your bare feet pressing into the mattress, giving him an unobstructed view of your delicate fingers, playing, growing slick. Your head lolls on the pillow, hips beginning to rise against your own touch in a slow undulation. A soft moan leaves you-_

_‘Stop.’_

_At once, you do. Aizen sheds the last articles of clothing before he climbs onto the bed. It dips beneath his weight. He kneels between your open thighs, grasps your ankles, and hitches them higher and wider apart. You are spread lewdly for his perusal. A satisfied smirk curves his lips. You’re already soaked, just from his voice and a little masturbation._

_‘Do you want me, ____?’ He drags a fingertip down the centre of your slit. ‘Beg me.’_

_It spills easily from your lips, like a prayer. ‘Please, Aizen-sama. Take me. Use me. I only want to be yours. Please, Aizen-sama. I need you so much…’_

_From the fervent look in your eyes, the sweat beading between your breasts, he knows you mean it. He decides that he has in it in him to grant this request of yours. He’ll give you this favour, since you devote yourself so wholly to him. How much your tune has changed, after your earlier indifference. He tries to remember what the catalyst was for your change in demeanour, but his memory is fuzzy. It must be the endorphins, he rationalises. He will think later. Now, it is time to enjoy._

_The first thrust into your tight, slick heat is slow. He always enjoys the initial tightness the most, the low mewl that leaves you as he invades your body, claims it for his own. He leans down over you, watching you but not touching other than where your bodies join. He rests a moment, letting the heat of you pulse around him. It’s something to be savoured, not squandered._

_With a quick, clinical motion, he tears open the front of your gown. Your breasts bounce, freed. He rubs his thumbs over your stiff nipples, pinching them until you moan. Your breasts fill his palms in an instinctive, satisfying way. Everything about you seems to cater to deep animal needs as well as his aesthetic senses. He can tell that every touch of his overwhelms you, as it should._

_Sosuke sets a firm, slow pace. Each thrust hits home all the way to the hilt, designed to have you squirming and helpless with frustration and pleasure. A lock of his dark brown hair falls forward over his forehead, drags against your cheek. Your eyes flutter closed, lips open in rapture._

_‘Open your eyes,’ he orders. He wants to see you come apart, bit by bit._

_Your gaze meets his. It’s like a frisson of heat. His desire imposing over yours, all-consuming. Your hands lie passive either side of your head, but he doesn’t like that. He wants your eagerness and desperation now that there’s a tingling in the pit of his stomach, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can indulge in teasing you._

_‘Touch me,’ he grits out, gripping your thighs hard as he bumps up the pace into hard, rolling thrusts that leave you seeing stars. Your hands fly up and latch onto his shoulders, squeezing tight. That’s better. ‘Moan for me, ____. Show me how much you need me.’_

_Your voice rises to a keening sound, your skin flushed darker and glistening with sweat. He likes you like this, in torn silk, rumpled and untamed by his hand. Nobody else is allowed to see you like this. You are his, utterly. The pressure, the heat is growing to be too much._

_‘_ Sosuke-sama _,’ you whimper, and a shudder runs from the top of his head down to the base of his spine. He grips your thighs hard enough to leave bruises, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark. They have a cold gleam, even in the heat of the moment. ‘_ S-Sosuke-sama!’

_A soft grunt in the back of his throat as you clench around him, so tight it almost pains him. He thrusts into your orgasm, riding you through it. He will continue until he’s had his own pleasure, no matter how much you beg and squeal for reprieve. He may draw it out, just to see the tears of overstimulation gather in your eyes, to make your desperate cries echo off the white walls-_

Slam.

Sosuke jerked awake, jitters of surprise running through his muscles. He looked around wildly. His hair stood on end, and the sheets were twisted about his long limbs. He’d been thrashing in the night. In the doorway to his quarters stood Hirako-taicho, teeth bared in an irritated frown.

‘Get movin’, would ya? The hell’re ya still doin’ in bed, Sosuke?’

‘Taicho…’ Aizen began, his voice rough from sleep. ‘I-‘

Hirako’s gaze drifts down. A look of shocked amusement flickered across his face. ‘Guess I should’a given ya five more minutes,’ he drawled.

Aizen looked down. On the front of his white linen sheets, there was a patch of wetness. Right over his crotch. He could feel the aching throb of his cock, softening after his slumbering orgasm. His face tightened with barely-veiled fury.

‘I’ll join you in a few moments, Hirako-taicho.’ His voice was as cold as mid-winter.

‘Sure, sure,’ Hirako snickered, slamming the door shut.

There was nothing else for it. Aizen was going to have to kill him.


	34. Kyouraku Shunsui/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting things can happen when you take initiative...

Shunsui is a man who loves all kinds of flowers, including shrinking violets, wallflowers, and any other floral shyness metaphor you care to think of. He finds it an endearing trait, especially in the little blossom that shares his bed.

There’s nothing that makes him feel quite as masculine and protective as when you let out a shuddering sigh when his hand slips up between your smooth, plush thighs. Or the playful downcast of your eyes, your cheeks heating against his lips. 

He makes it a point to tease you, to gently lead you out of your shell until your hands are fisted in his long, wavy hair and you’re panting out demands for ‘ _More more,_ please _Shunsui, more!’_

That’s why it takes him by such surprise you position yourself on his lap one late evening in the all-but-deserted First Divison office. A pleased hum leaves the sotaicho as your warm weight settles on his thighs, the curve of your ass pressed conspicuously against his groin. 

He leans forward, lips brushing the shell of your ear. ‘Feeling a little bold, my love?’

‘No,’ you say, leaning forward to organise a stack of reports on his desk, patting them against the wood into a neat pile. ‘I just wanted to see you. Don’t be ridiculous.’

The move conveniently presses your ass harder into his crotch, and he adjusts his seat, grunting. Large hands skim up the outsides of your thighs, reach your hips, and  _squeeze._ A little bolt of heat shoots through you, and you straighten up. 

‘I don’t think I’m being ridiculous,’ Shunsui says, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating through his chest into your back. ‘I think you’re up to something.’

There’s an unmistakable bulge growing in his lap, hardening the more you wriggle to find a comfortable perch. A flush heats your face. You can’t believe your own audacity. Husband or not, you’re sitting pretty on the sotaicho’s budding erection in his office. Nanao could walk in at any moment with a last piece of paperwork, or an emergency meeting could be called, or-

Shunsui’s hands slide up over your soft stomach, cupping your breasts through your shihakusho. His touch lingers over your hardened nipples, strumming over the little peaks through the layers of fabric - a restless, ticklish sensation that makes you squirm.

‘Maa~ you’re  _definitely_ up to something,’ he purrs, giving you a playful double-pinch, eliciting a squeak.

Oh, you’re  _in_  for it now.

The sotaicho yanks your obi open without preamble, tugging the layers of sturdy black and white cloth out of the way. Whiskery kisses tickle the side of your neck, followed by a slick stroke of tongue, and then hot, wet sucking where your pulse flutters in the base of your neck. His fingertips are rough against your softer skin, cupping and massaging the soft mounds you’ve been so courteous to offer up to him. 

‘ _Shunsui…’_

A dark, smoky chuckle. ‘Don’t think you’re going anywhere now, ____-chan.’

A few, deft tugs and your hakama are open too, leaving room enough for the flat of his hand to slide  _down_  and  _between._ Your eyes widen as he cups you through the fabric of your underwear, one fingertip stroking back and forth in a deceptively idle motion. 

‘What am I supposed to do with such a mischievous shinigami?’ he ponders, that finger rubbing teasing circles through the rapidly-dampening cotton. Tingles shoot through your sensitive flesh. ‘If you’re trying to seduce your way up through the ranks, I’m afraid it won’t work.’

He pulls aside the cloth barrier, then sinks a long, thick finger straight into your slick heat. You stiffen, arching back against him. He rotates that finger, humming in lazy thought. His thumb joins the game, spreading your folds apart to locate your clit. 

‘Well? What do you think? I  _could_  create a new position for you. One where you just have to sit around looking pretty, maybe sit on my lap and pour me sake? Oh, my subordinates wouldn’t approve, but I think I could live with that. You’d be  _well rewarded_ , ____-chan.’

As if to punctuate that little fantasy, he adds a second finger, stretching you. His digits twist then scissor apart, then curl in a beckoning motion. He finds exactly what he’s looking for, and your hips jerk forward as a delicious thrill ripples through you, making your breath catch and your toes curl. He repeats himself, thumb rubbing over your clit, spreading your natural wetness around so his job is even easier. 

The lewd, slick sounds are loud in the large, luxurious office. Shunsui seems to delight in it, rocking up into you, grinding his clothed erection against the soft curve of your ass. His free hand rises and lays against your neck, holding you against his chest. The dominance display makes you whimper, your pulse fluttering wildly against his fingertips.

You truly are dealing with the  _sotaicho_ , and not just your goofy husband. His lips press against the shell of your ear, parting to let his tongue slide along the delicate whorls of cartilage and skin. His breath is ragged so close to your ear, half-panting with lust. He nips at your earlobe, teeth scraping, and soothes the sting with a suck. 

’ _Shun…_ ’ you keen, all but writhing on the large man’s lap. 

He gives a low groan in response, the friction of your warm weight against his untouched erection too delightful to put into words. As if to reward you, his fingers curl and flex in your core, rubbing insistently at your sweet-spots while his thumb gives your clit a firm, unrelenting massage. 

There’s an undeniable tingle in the pit of your stomach, spreading outward. Your muscles tighten, body seizing up in anticipation of sweet relief. Shunsui’s fingers pump urgently between your thighs. 

The build-up is hot, urgent. Shunsui doesn’t feel like taking it slowly, not when you showed such initiative and such nerve. Pleasure twists tight at the base of your spine, every nerve alight and burning with strain. It only grows hotter, faster, more  _intense_ -

‘A-aah!  _Sotaicho!’_

Shunsui curses close in a low, husky voice as you tighten around his fingers like a vise, inner walls pulsing, drenching his fingers in your release. His cock twitches underneath you, impatient. The man himself has more self-control, easing his fingers out of your smaller body. He holds them up to the light, admiring how they glisten. 

’____-chan,’ he says, in no small wonder. 'I didn’t know you had it in you.’

He brings his fingers to his lips, licking them clean with obvious relish. 

'I just wanted to…’ You pause to catch your breath, heart racing still. 'Surprise you.’

’ _Mmm_ , and you did at that.’ He lifts you with ease, turning you around on his lap until you’re face to face. His eyes are hooded, dark, his smile sly. 'Now, let’s get to the main event, shall we?’

’ _Eh?’_


End file.
